When Souls Awaken
by TracyLeeT
Summary: "When Souls Awaken" is the sequel to "Does The Heart Ever Heal?". It is the story of two people who believed they'd lost each other forever and the journey they take to reunite.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Ben Cartwright sighed, his thoughts drifting along with the balmy night air that carried the fragrance of honeysuckle from the north and the sweet smell of sage from the west. Stars dotted the blue-black sky, winking at the earth as she settled her daytime symphony of life and prepared for her nighttime celebration. A simple, short puff on his reed-stemmed pipe released a hazy cloud of sweet-smelling smoke that mingled lazily with the rich odors already present. Nearby, the crunch and snap of tiny feet against the thirsty underbrush announced the arrival of a critter of the dark foraging for his next tasty morsel. Behind him, muffled footsteps brushing over the floorboards announced the imminent arrival of another Cartwright struggling with insomnia on that warm summer evening. Ben turned to see his eldest son, Adam, illuminated by the twinkling stars, clad in his black pants and slippers, as he approached the empty porch chair next to his own.

"Can't sleep, son?"

"Haven't tried just yet. I've been reading," he replied as he rotated his stiff, muscled right shoulder. "Thought I'd get a little fresh air before I turned in."

Adam plopped heavily into the old wooden rocker and propped his slippered feet, ankles crossed, atop the edge of the rain barrel. "You?"

"I've just been enjoying the relaxing night sounds."

"And a few puffs of your favorite tobacco, I see."

Ben lifted the ornate clay pipe, regarded it affectionately and nodded as he placed the tip in his mouth. Adam smiled, remembering the day years ago when he, Hoss and Joe had presented the pipe to Ben on his birthday. Now, he watched as his father inhaled deeply and then blew several billowy smoke rings, a feat that in years past had never failed to earn giggles from Little Joe and sounds of awe from Hoss. The first ring floated effortlessly, drawn upward by the slight breeze. It shone eerily in the moonlight, the ring's dance pulling and shifting until its shape was an abstract version of the breath that created it. A soft chuckle crept from Adam's mouth as he recalled another day years ago when, alone in the house, he'd tried smoking the pipe, determined to replicate Ben's smoke-ring performances. Adam had removed the pipe from its box, filled the chamber with tobacco and only then remembered he'd forgotten to bring a match. He'd carefully set the pipe on the table next to its box, run to the kitchen for a match and returned, his pulse racing with anticipation. After striking the match with ease, he'd lifted the pipe to his mouth and touched flame to tobacco. One very large inhale later, Adam had choked and sputtered as he ran out back to empty the evidence of his failed attempt to emulate his father. He hadn't been caught, nor had he ever tried the pipe again. And now, that night, as he once again watched his father's execution of the art, Adam was reminded that although he felt that he and his father were very much alike in many respects, they were each unique, their talents varied.

The creaking of the front door interrupted the moment. Joe, dressed in his night pants, his thick, wavy hair uncharacteristically disheveled, lumbered toward his father and eldest brother, scratching his head and gradually focusing his droopy eyes.

"Can't sleep?" Adam quoted the obvious.

"Real observant, Older Brother," Joe mumbled sarcastically as he dropped down heavily into the only empty chair.

"Hoss is snorin' somethin' awful tonight! The sound cuts plum through the walls! Pa, we _gotta_ get thicker walls," he whined, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips.

Adam snorted as he rocked backward, balancing on the very back of the rocker runners, his hands clasped behind his neck.

"It's not funny! _You_ try sleepin' in the room next to him. One night, I had my pillow jammed so far into my ear I fell outta bed tryin' ta pull it out!" Joe complained.

Luckily for Adam, he was able to right the tipped chair before his laughter tossed him off balance.

Ben's face shone as he grinned, shaking his head at the thought of Doc Martin being summoned to remove a pillow from his son's ear. As he took one last puff from his pipe, a slight breeze temporarily cooled the humid air on the porch. Ben looked at the old oil lamp hanging near the barn door as it swung from left to right with the gust of air. A large, low hanging branch swayed back and forth into the open road leading from the Ponderosa. His memory flashed to a night six months ago. A night he'd spent on the same porch, longing for Adam to ride into the yard and wish him a happy birthday. A night spent praying that his son was alive and would soon come home.

Adam's return from his three-year-trek had been anything but the joyous occasion Ben, as well as his sons, had dreamed about. Instead, he'd found his way back to the Ponderosa by chance, with no memory of his past, no recollection of his name or his family, and injuries, both physical and mental, that would require time and endless patience to heal.

Ben's heart ached for his eldest son. Having struggled through and survived the loss of three beloved wives, he'd become a master at disguising loneliness, paralyzing sadness and the agonizing guilt of survival. Watching Adam over the past months, Ben recognized, maybe more than Adam himself, the deep, unending love Adam had for the young woman who'd tragically perished in the orphanage fire. Just as painful to observe were Adam's eyes as they turned cold, almost dead, when he spoke of the three children who'd so deeply touched his life and then vanished along with the woman in the flames.

And now here they were, six months later. Adam, Hoss, and Joe, together under the same roof, still sharing tales and tragedies but most importantly, healing the miseries and pain of the past few years.

As the breeze caressed his cheeks, deep-seated guilt washed over Ben. During Adam's absence, he'd unknowingly allowed his depression to overwhelm him. As he looked back on those months, he thought of Hoss and Joe, faced with the possible loss of their brother. Ben's sadness had given them a father weakened, nearly crushed by his refusal to cope with the trauma of a missing son. And although, at the time, no one had known of Adam's plight, the knowledge that he had endured such a trauma and struggled against the odds to regain his memory and return home now left Ben feeling ashamed. Humbled by few things in life, his conclusion that he'd failed all of his sons during that time was a disgrace that could only be healed by his own heart's capacity to love.

Lost in thought, Ben was jolted to reality when Joe's continuing descriptions of Hoss's nightly torment sent Adam into a fit of laughter the likes of which hadn't been heard on the Ponderosa in years. Watching as his eldest and youngest sons shared the moment was precious to Ben, and his glum façade was quickly transformed into a contagious belly-laugh that carried across the yard like a comforting spring downpour.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Bits and pieces of the exaggerated details of Adam's travels had circulated throughout Virginia City. With the passage of six entire months, the gossip continued and today was no exception. As Adam dismounted and secured Sport to the hitching post in front of the store, he felt several pairs of eyes boring a hole through the back of his head. He refused to give whoever they were the satisfaction of even the briefest of glances. His brothers, who'd jumped down from the buckboard, also noticed the small group gathered across the street. Hoss instinctively wrapped his arm across Adam's shoulders and led him into the store.

"Morning Hoss, Adam, Joe. What can I do for ya today?" Seth asked as he wiped his hands across the front of his work apron.

"Mornin', Seth. I've got a list somewhere . . . Ah, here it is. It's a perty long one this week. Mind if we grab a beer while ya get the supplies together?"

"Sure thing, Hoss. Give me . . . oh, 'bout thirty minutes. I got another order ta fill ahead o' yours," Seth replied.

"Alright. I think we can manage a beer or two in thirty minutes!"

As they crossed the bustling street, Adam again felt out of place, as if he were an attraction in a circus sideshow. "Hey, Joe! Did I forget to get dressed this morning?" he asked dryly.

"No, Older Brother, you appear to be dressed just fine!" Joe replied, stepping protectively closer to his brother.

"Don't pay 'em no mind, Adam," Hoss raised his voice so he might be heard above the clatter in the street. "They ain't got nothin' better ta do!"

"Adam? Hoss? Joe?"

The female voice behind them sounded familiar, but Adam wasn't able to place it until he turned to see Carrie Baker approaching. A long-time friend of the Cartwrights, she and Adam had been an item for all of two weeks when they were in school. Although Carrie's attraction to Adam continued for years, Adam considered their relationship to be better dealt with as a good friendship. After school, both Carrie and Adam had gone their separate ways and they'd eventually lost touch with one another.

"Carrie? Is that you?" Adam's voice lilted through his twinkling eyes and expanding smile.

"Adam! It's been such a long time," she said as he took her hands and kissed her cheek. "I've been back for a while now. Heard you'd gone off traveling the world and . . . Well, I heard what happened. I'm so glad you're back home. And that you remember who . . . I mean . . ."

"It's okay, Carrie. I lost my memory for a while, but everything's come back to me now," Adam assured her as they moved off the street and onto the walkway.

Carrie's face darkened, her deep brown eyes shining with sincerity as she reached for Adam's hands. "Adam, the fire at the orphanage . . . It must have been awful. I'm so very sorry."

He accepted her gesture of comfort, squeezing her hands in his and nodding his head. "It was a terrible tragedy. Three children and a beautiful young woman . . . I miss them very much." Adam's eyes drifted downward, but not before Carrie caught the sudden wave of pain that swelled in those familiar eyes.

She touched his cheek with her finger then lifted his chin until their eyes met. "And you? Your burns, I mean? Are you alright?"

"Yes. The scars are fading." Adam's voice softened as the heavy mood of the impromptu reunion became uncomfortable. "I was lucky."

Hoss and Joe, weary of interrupting, shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"I'm sorry! I've forgotten my manners! Hoss. Joe. How are you both?"

"We're fine, Carrie. Just fine," Joe said, nodding and politely tipping his hat as Hoss mirrored his gesture.

"And your father? I do miss seeing him and listening to his tales of adventure!"

Hoss chuckled.

"Miss Carrie, you jist might be the _only_ one that likes hearin' Pa's stories!"

"That's because he tells them over and over and over!" Joe added. He felt a comforting warmth inside as he watched Adam's casual smile turn into a grin.

"Well, I'd better be getting along. I'm meeting a few friends for lunch. Adam . . . It was so good to see you. And you too, Hoss and Joe. It's been far too long."

Joe glanced at Hoss, both sensing a touch of the attraction that had always existed between their brother and Carrie.

"Good to see you too, Carrie. Let's have dinner sometime soon." Adam's tone implied the end of the conversation, but after a moment, a second thought carried an invitation that both surprised and delighted everyone there. "Say next week? Tuesday evening? It would be nice to catch up."

"Yes, that would be wonderful!" Carrie said, immediately flustered by the excitement in her voice. "I mean . . . I'd love a chance to catch up."

"I'll pick you up at six."

"And don't be a stranger at the ranch! Pa would love to see you anytime!" Joe added.

Three handsome men tipped their hats, making Carrie blush before she turned and bounced happily down the dusty street.

"We best be gettin' those beers!" Hoss said, wrapping his arms around his brothers' shoulders.

As they sauntered toward the saloon, the lack of conversation made Adam painfully aware that things were far from being back to normal. In some respects, they were still tiptoeing around him. If things were truly back to normal, he was sure there would have been wisecracks and insinuations about his upcoming evening with Carrie. While he appreciated his family taking his recovery one day at a time, he desperately wanted to be treated like 'the old Adam'. The Adam who didn't struggle every night to fall asleep . . . the Adam who didn't dream of a beautiful woman named Mercy and three fine children named AnnaLynn, Danny and Mary . . . the Adam who did not cry himself


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

A roar of laughter poured out of the saloon, splashed onto Main Street and landed in the ears of the Cartwright brothers. Hoss and Joe, flashing toothy grins at one another, eagerly pushed through the swinging doors. Adam hesitated just outside the undulating shutters. The tang of beer and cigars wafting on the breeze permeated his nose. Wood smashing against flesh, glass shattering as it hit the floor and the painful groans and grunts of a barroom brawl flooded his head. With a deep inhale, Adam stepped feet first into the one thing he'd been avoiding most – a crowded room filled with alcohol-loosened tongues. Once inside, the Cartwright brothers approached an empty table. Hastily, Adam slid past Joe, claiming the seat facing the door of the saloon, a move that caught the attention of both of his brothers.

"I'll git us some beers," Hoss said as Joe rocked back in his chair, put on his most irresistible face and surveyed the ladies in the room. "You two stay outta trouble while I'm gone, ya hear!"

The saloon was unusually full, a result of the miners' recent prosperity as the Rourke and Steeple mine once again opened its shafts. Everyone was in town and anticipation of a lively Saturday night filled with flowing whiskey and ample poker monies surged. With one elbow resting heavily on the bar and one foot perched atop the footrest, Hoss ordered three beers. Cosmo filled the mugs as Hoss caught the reflections of Joe and Adam in the large, oblong mirror hanging behind the burly barkeep. Joe had removed his hat and green jacket, making himself comfortable as he scanned the room for a pretty lady or a lively card game. Adam however, still dressed in his outerwear, sat rigidly in his chair.

Joe's focus was on a pretty girl wearing a low-cut yellow dress. Although in the company of a male patron and much to her companion's displeasure, she continued to ogle Joe over his shoulder.

Hoss craned his neck toward her table and saw Stu Weaver shift in his chair, hoping to obscure the view that held her attention. "Stu Weaver," he thought as he gathered the glasses and made his way to his waiting brothers. "Of all the low down losers ta be here this afternoon. Maybe we'll be lucky 'n' he won't see fit ta cause any trouble."

Joe's fascination with the saloon gal was briefly interrupted when he saw Hoss approaching, balancing three full mugs of beer in one large hand.

"Here ya are," Hoss announced as he plopped the mugs on the center of the table, "and the next round's on you, Older Brother."

Adam reached for a glass, ignoring Hoss's challenge.

"Hoss, how did you manage that with one hand?" Joe asked, the overacted admiration in his voice bringing a forced chuckle from Adam.

"Talent, Short Shanks," Hoss bragged. "Raw talent!"

A moment of awkward silence ended when yellow-clad-Lily approached the table.

Hoss glanced over his shoulder at the table she'd come from and caught a glimpse of Stu glowering at Joe from across the room. When Stu sprung out of his chair, kicked it to the floor, and stormed out of the saloon, Hoss exhaled sharply.

"Which one of you handsome gentlemen is gonna buy me a drink?" Lily asked as she slinked past Joe and slithered into the seat next to his.

Joe made eye contact with Cosmo and raised one finger high in the air. Moments later the request was delivered, and Lily made sure that Joe knew just how much she appreciated his generosity. As she stroked the back of his head, her fingers weaved their way between his thick waves and when she gently caressed the back of his neck, he nearly tilted his chair the rest of the way to the floor. Regaining his composure proved to be both embarrassing and difficult, and his brothers' sniggering didn't help.

"Careful there, cowboy! I didn't mean to hurt ya none!" Lily purred as her finger continued around Joe's neck and into the opening at the front of his shirt. "Just sayin' a proper 'thank you' for the drink."

"Ma'am . . . I mean, Miss . . ." Joe stammered.

"The name's 'Lily', honey," she said, exaggerating the 'L's' with her tongue.

As much as Hoss was enjoying watching his little brother's latest predicament, he couldn't help but notice Adam relaxing. He saw the familiar twinkle in Adam's eyes as he watched his older brother wrap his long, slender fingers around his mug and sip his beer, never once taking his eyes away from Joe and the scene he and Lily were creating. Hoss felt a warm blanket enveloping his chest and immediately thought of his father. _This must be how Pa feels when he sits back 'n' watches us . . . when we're happy or teasin' each other . . . Even if we're arguin' 'n' fightin' about somethin', he still watches and smiles._ The feeling soothed him and his fears about Adam's recovery, but the feeling was not meant to last as Lily, her hand still tempting Joe's chest, looked across the table and smiled at Adam.

"Say, ain't you the fella that lost his mind?" Lily asked, her fake sincerity ringing with a malicious undertone in her voice.

Outraged by her question, Joe rocked his chair forward onto all four legs, his face glowering at Lily. "I think you'd better leave now," he suggested as he flicked her hand from his chest.

"It's all right, Joe," Adam said as he raised the mug of beer to his lips and emptied it in one swallow. "Yes, I'm the fella that 'lost' his mind. What's it to you?"

Lily saw the threatening look coming from both Hoss and Joe, but Adam seemed willing to answer any of her questions. "I was just wonderin'," she said, "what it was like, ya know, not knowin' who you were."

Adam set his mug on the table with a thud, his fingers stroking the wet surface of the cool glass. He raised his eyes to Lily's and let them linger as he stared her into an uncomfortable gaze. "It was easy," Adam said, his eyes never wavering. "When I didn't know who I was, ignorant people never bothered to ask me ridiculous questions."

Adam's icy stare made Lily's skin crawl. Not sure of her next move, she simply sat, gaping at Adam.

"Let's get over to the store," Adam barked before draining his mug. "I'm sure our order is ready by now." He pushed his chair back with his thighs, stood straight as an arrow, and sauntered out of the saloon.

Joe and Hoss followed close behind, leaving Lily alone at the table with three empty mugs and no real gossip to pass along. She stood and opened her mouth, ready to direct a loud comment to the Cartwrights but when she saw that no one else in the saloon was paying her any attention, she simply pouted and stormed up the stairs.

Joe shook his head as Lily rounded the top of the steps. He stopped suddenly, turning to his oldest brother. "Adam?" he asked.

"Yes, Joe, I'm okay," Adam assured. "People are curious. I'll answer those who are sincere, like Carrie. And the others? I choose to leave them in the gossip pit with the rest of the vultures!"

Hoss swung his big arm around Adam's shoulders. "See, Joe! Adam here _is_ the smart one, after all!"

Hoss's teasing brought a smile to Adam's face as they made their way to the general store.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"How's the order coming, Seth?" Joe yelled as he watched Hoss help himself to a handful of jelly beans.

"Your timing is perfect, fellas!" Seth said as he struggled with a large sack of flour. "Just bringin' out the last item."

"Hoss," Adam demanded, "would you get away from the sweets and help us load the buckboard? You keep eating those things and we'll need to bring an extra wagon just to get you home!"

Joe's giggle rang through the store and drew everyone into its contagious nature.

"Maybe you Cartwrights outta leave Fat Hoss at home from now on," came a familiar male voice as Stu Weaver stepped from behind a stack of boxes. "Wouldn't want the little children of our fair city to have to go without their sweets 'cause Fat Hoss ate 'em all!"

Adam tilted his head, calmly waiting for a sign from Hoss.

Joe glared at Stu as he stepped forward, ready to defend his brother's honor.

"Adam don't need this . . ." Hoss thought, "'n' I shore as shootin' don't neither."

"Seth?" Hoss said to the shopkeeper, his voice raised. "We'll be loadin' the wagon now. You might wanna clean up 'round here. Seems ta be a dirty varmint runnin' loose."

Stu made way for Hoss, his path blocked with lightning speed by both Joe and Adam.

"Stu," Joe growled, "you'd best turn around and get as far away from here as you can."

The odds clearly against him, Stu pushed past Adam, purposely grazing his shoulder, and walked toward the door of the mercantile. Always one to have the final word, Stu hesitated at the threshold.

"Joe, you and Hoss best make sure you hang on to ole Adam there. Wouldn't want ya to lose him on your way back to the high and mighty Cartwright ranch!"

Adam folded his arms across his chest and watched as Stu left and sauntered across the street.

Joe and Hoss exchanged glances. Hoss nodded toward the goods waiting to be loaded onto the buckboard. Each man filled his arms with supplies, approached Adam and bumped him as they made their way onto the street.

"You gonna stand there or ya gonna earn yer keep?" Hoss teased as he passed his older brother.

Joe giggled as he practically dumped a large bag of flour into Adam's unprepared arms.

By the time the wagon was loaded, the incident at the saloon was all but forgotten and the run-in with Stu was a fading memory. The ride back to the Ponderosa promised to be a time for Adam, Hoss and Joe to relax and simply be brothers.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As the buckboard filled with supplies pulled into the yard, Ben and Hop Sing rushed outside to help with the unloading. When Adam swung down from Sport, Ben took several steps toward his son, thought better of his intent and grabbed a crate full of canned peaches. Always protective of his family, Ben found that since Adam's return he had to exercise restraint to keep himself from smothering his son while shielding him from the outside world.

His father's change of direction, however, did not go unnoticed. Adam knew his father meant well, and everything he and his brothers did was born from love. The space they seemed to be giving him was appreciated, especially after an encounter like the one in the saloon. Nevertheless, Adam was confident that he was becoming a master at masking his true feelings and maintaining control over his internal anger and sadness.

Leaving Adam to care for the horses, the others quickly hauled the supplies into the house. Ben, Hoss, and Joe gathered in the great room while Hop Sing grumbled in Chinese as he placed everything _his_ way in _his_ kitchen.

"How did it go in town?" Ben asked, anxious for a report on Adam's mood.

A nod from Hoss left Joe to do the telling. He started with their encounter with Carrie and they all agreed that Adam's inviting her to dinner was a good sign. "Then we went into the saloon for a beer," Joe continued. "Everything was fine until one of the newer gals at the saloon decided to talk to the _'_man who'd lost his mind'."

"She WHAT?" Ben roared in a whisper meant for none to hear yet heard by all.

Joe couldn't stop a short giggle at his father's failed attempt at confidentiality. Seated on the settee, Hoss smiled up at Joe before shaking his head.

"I'm glad you two think this is so funny!" Ben said, his roar softened to a real whisper this time. "How could anyone be so cruel and inconsiderate?"

Joe propped one leg on the hearth and folded his hands on his knee as his father paced back and forth. He and Hoss both knew that the only way to continue this conversation was to let their father calm himself without interference.

"Of all the . . . And a woman at that! You'd think a woman would have more compassion than . . ." Ben's pacing stopped. Hands on his hips, he looked first at Hoss, then Joe. "Well? Are you going to tell me how Adam reacted or are you just going to sit there?"

Joe swallowed his giggle this time and let Hoss finish the tale.

"Well, Pa, he done handled it real good, if ya ask me. Said he _was_ the fella that lost his mind 'n' told her when he didn't know who he was, no one asked him stupid . . ."

"Ridiculous," Joe corrected.

"Oh, yeah," Hoss continued with admiration in his voice. "Said no one asked him ridiculous questions then he up 'n' left the saloon!"

"That was it?" Ben asked. "He just up and left?"

"Yes, sir. Far as that Lily knows, she didn't rile him none."

Hoss glanced at Joe as he sat down on the hearth, his fingers laced together supporting his chin. "He was hurt, Pa," Hoss continued. "I don't think he was angry . . . just hurt."

"Hoss is right," Joe added. "Anybody who doesn't know Adam wouldn't see it. He sure did put on a good show."

"Yeah," Ben agreed, nodding his head. "Same sort of thing happened the other day when Roy dropped by. I'm sure Adam appreciated Roy asking about things but I could see that he wished there were no _things_ to ask _about_. He seems to want everyone to forget all that happened, and, we can't." Ben sat in his favorite, worn chair and gently rubbed the arm rests with his hands. "Not anymore than he can."

"Pa," Joe whispered, "we had a sort of run-in at the mercantile, too."

Ben's face sank even further. He saw Hoss lower his head, turning over the tale to Joe.

"Stu Weaver," Joe groaned.

Ben's cheeks puffed before he exhaled sharply. Many years had passed since he spoken to the youngest of the Weaver boys. Time and time again, he'd witnessed Stu's erratic behavior; saloon fights, altercations with the sheriff, rough treatment of young ladies, and drunken public sermons reminding anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot of his tortuous upbringing by a father who compared his every fault and failure to the successes of the Cartwrights.

"He was his typical unpleasant self, Pa," Joe said. "Tossing insults and making a general nuisance of himself."

Ben nodded, recalling that Stu's bullying had been one of the catalysts that had triggered Hoss's desire to leave school. _No matter how old Hoss gets, I still struggle with the knowledge that mere words can harm him._

"Nothin' happened, Pa," Hoss added. "Just a lotta talk, nothin' more."

Ben recognized the aura surrounding Joe and Hoss. He knew no more details would be revealed, nor did they need to be. His sons were home, safe and sound, and that was all that mattered.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

"This past week shore did fly by," Hoss commented as he combed through his hair for the fourth time.

"Mm hmm . . ." Joe smirked as he straightened his tie. "You keep yankin' at your hair like that and you won't have any left to hold your hat on!"

"Very funny, Short Shanks! I'll have you know," Hoss bragged with one last stroke across the top before tossing the comb onto the dresser, "that the gals all seem ta like my hair jist the way it is!"

Poking his head around the corner of the opened bedroom door, Ben watched as two of his sons stood primping in the oval antique mirror hanging above Joe's dresser. "How long does it take for two young fellas to get ready to go to town on a Saturday night?"

Both Joe and Hoss jumped at the sound of their father's barreling voice.

"Geez, Pa!" Joe squealed. "You shouldn't sneak up on a fella like that. I nearly poured Bay Rum all over myself!"

"Ya, like the gals cain't already smell ya comin' a mile away!" Hoss remarked as he headed for the door.

Behind Hoss's back, Joe scrunched his upper lip, flared his nostrils and crossed his eyes, and Ben snickered as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Is Adam ready yet?" Ben asked quietly.

Hoss looked at Joe and Ben saw the dreaded 'brother glance' that could mean only one thing: Ben was once again in the dark.

"Pa," Hoss said, "I don't think Adam's plannin' on goin' inta town. Last I saw, he was readin' out on the porch."

Hoss's voice confirmed the disappointed look on his face and Ben's loud exhale did the same.

With a shake of his head and a reassuring hand on Hoss's shoulder, Ben, Hoss, and Joe headed downstairs and out into the yard, stopping first to grab their hats and gun belts from the old sideboard. Ben sighed, swung the door open and stepped heavily onto the porch, searching immediately for Adam on one of the old outdoor chairs. Instead, he, Hoss, and Joe were greeted by Adam sitting atop Sport alongside Buck, Cochise, and Chubb, all saddled and ready to ride.

"How long does it take three ranchers to get ready to go to town?" Adam whined. "If there's any fun waitin' for us, I'm sure it's started by now!"

The smile on Ben's face expanded to a wide grin. Joe clapped Hoss on the back as all three grabbed their reins, mounted, and started down the road toward Virginia City.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Sharing dinner with their father at the International Hotel was a familiar experience that had been missing of late for both Hoss and Joe. During the last year before Adam's return, Ben had avoided Virginia City and the stares, glances, and questions that usually came from its residents, so Hoss and Joe had gone to town on their own when the need arose and rarely for pleasure.

Roy Coffee entered the lobby, immediately noticed the group sitting at the big table in the back and made his way through the crowd. "Well, it sure is nice ta see the Cartwrights here in town!"

"Roy! Good to see you!" Ben said, standing to shake his old friend's hand and extending a hand toward an empty chair. "Won't you join us?"

"If you're sure I'm not interruptin'."

"No, of course not." Ben looked around for their waitress and motioned for her to add Roy's order to theirs.

"Evenin', Sheriff. What'll it be tonight?" the pleasant young girl asked as her attention fell on Joe.

Roy ordered his usual Saturday dinner of roast pork and potatoes.

"Do you think she heard me?" Roy asked after she'd gone. "She was so busy swoonin' over Joe, I'm not sure the little gal even wrote anything down!"

"She did, Roy," Adam remarked as a sly smile crossed his face. "I saw the pencil move. Now, _what_ she wrote down, I can't say!"

"Yeah, Roy. You're liable ta git roast pork with a side order o' Joe on yer plate!"

Hoss laughed at his own joke, Adam's grin spread wide across his face, and the left corner of Joe's lip curled as he sneered at both of his brothers.

Roy noticed the twinkle in Ben's eye as his sons teased one another and enjoyed each other's company. The return of that glimmer proved that Ben's depression was passing, making way for the return of the old Ben Cartwright.

Dinner held nothing but pleasant conversation, yet as a dessert of warm apple cobbler and coffee was being served, Joe couldn't help but see Adam's apparent impatience with the length of their visit to the restaurant. When Joe scanned the room, he saw the reason for Adam's edginess - he'd just been seated across the room, his intrusive eyes glued to the Cartwrights' table, and his name was Stu Weaver.

Everyone at the Cartwright table shifted uncomfortably when, after placing his order with the waitress, Stu approached their gathering wearing his usual sickeningly-bogus grin.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Mr. Cartwright, sir," Stu said with all of the phony sincerity he could muster.

His performance lacked talent, as far as Ben was concerned, and a quick glance at Roy and each of his sons assured him that Stu's routine had duped no one. "What is it, Stu?" Ben wasted no effort disguising his true feelings and Joe had to resort to covering his mouth with his napkin to hide his amusement.

"Why, I just wanted to extend my most sincere thoughts in welcoming your beloved son, Adam, back home, is all . . . sir."

"If you would like to do so, then address my son, not me."

Ben's tone brought a smirk to Roy's face.

Stu looked as if he'd just swallowed vinegar, but just as quickly, his expression changed as he turned to face Adam. "Very well, Mr. Cartwright, sir. Adam, it's so good to see you up and about and in public after your recent . . . ordeal."

Stu's lack of sincerity hit both Joe and Hoss like a bar-fight punch to the gut. The momentary visual warning from Ben was the only remedy for the churning anger growing within them all.

Adam purposefully set his fork against the side of his nearly empty plate, and then casually reached for his glass of water. After holding the glass at eye level and thoroughly examining the contents, he sipped the cool liquid and returned the glass to the table before making any acknowledgement whatsoever toward Stu.

Ben recognized this behavior. Adam was, in essence, counting to ten, allowing time to wash a feeling of discomfort over his 'target'.

Slowly, Adam raised his eyes and glared at Stu. As he spoke, his left hand balled tightly into a fist as it lay atop the table. "My 'ordeal', as you put it, originated with the horrific burning-death of three children and one young woman who meant more to me than you and your sad excuse for a heart could possibly comprehend, and culminated in my finding my way back home to my life and my family which once again, you do not possess the capacity to understand."

Before Stu could even blink, Adam continued.

"As for my being 'up and about and in public', that is none of your concern now, nor shall it ever be. Now, if you'll excuse us, we are having a private meal together."

Joe lifted his napkin and elegantly wiped the unsoiled corners of his mouth, stifling a giggle and partially covering his grin. Hoss simply lowered his head, his chin nearly touching his chest, but kept his eyes upright, glued to Stu's face. Ben spread his proud shoulders tall and wide, looking rather like a male peacock initiating some sort of mating ritual. Even Roy Coffee took pleasure, unbridled pleasure, in the moment. His chuckle was abrupt and loud enough for all, including Stu, to hear.

Ignoring Adam and looking directly at Hoss, Stu see-sawed his shoulders and stuck out his jaw.

"Well, Adam, where are your manners?" Stu hissed. "I haven't yet had the opportunity to greet my old friend Hoss."

At the sound of his name, Hoss lifted his chin, glaring at their unwelcome visitor.

"Hoss, I must say, it's good to see you looking so . . . corpulent," Stu said. "Oh, Baby J . . . excuse me, I mean 'Little' Joe, that means overweight, in case you weren't familiar with the word."

Ben's jaw locked and released. His eyes met Joe's and Ben's raised eyebrows commanded restraint. He saw Adam's shoulders stiffen as he picked up his fork and poked at the crumbs dotting his plate.

Hoss bit down lightly on his lower lip. Memories from the past jabbed at his heart. He'd needed his big brother's protection then and Adam had stepped up each and every time, taking several beatings to Stu's many. Hoss pushed himself up from the table, towering a good two inches above Stu. Adam followed suit, followed quickly by Joe.

Stu's impulsiveness left his mouth desert-dry. He turned toward Ben, his façade once again in control. "I'm so sorry to have interrupted, Mr. Cartwright, sir. Please enjoy the remainder of your evening and make sure to pass my greetings along to Hop Sing, your wonderful houseman." With that, Stu turned on his heels and beat a winding path back to his table.

"That sure is one big waste of a human being," Hoss spewed as he and his brothers returned to their seats.

"You know, Hoss, Stu Weaver is one memory I wish I hadn't remembered!" Adam washed down his words with the remainder of his drink, and then set the glass down heavily against the table surface.

Nothing more was said about their uninvited dinner guest, and as they exited the restaurant, no one acknowledged Stu as he sulked, alone at his table.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Tuesday arrived quickly for Adam. One minute he was looking forward to his dinner with Carrie and the next he was frantic to think of an excuse for calling off their evening. While spending time with Carrie was a pleasant thought - and he'd had far too few of those recently - spending that time in a public place where he could once again be the target of whispers and glances left his stomach roiling. He considered a more intimate meeting, just the two of them, but avoiding any misunderstanding regarding his feelings for Carrie, or lack thereof, overweighed his fears of a public meal together.

Dressed in his well-fitted black suit, white shirt and black string tie, Adam propped one foot on the hearth as he shined his best pair of boots. Whistling as he buffed each one to a proper shine, he was unaware that Hoss had entered from the kitchen balancing a plate loaded with a triple-decker sandwich. Slowly, Hoss crept up to stand behind him.

"Tonight's the big night, ain't it?" Hoss asked before taking a bite of his late afternoon snack.

Adam nearly tossed the boot brush into the flames.

"Damn it, Hoss, don't sneak up on a man like that! You'll get yourself shot!"

"Sorry, Older Brother. I figured ya heard me comin'."

"One would think so," Adam replied sarcastically. "You'd better not let Hop Sing catch you with that . . . that monstrosity so close to suppertime."

"What? This little thing?" Hoss said as he seated himself in the comfort of the blue, velvety chair. "Jist a snack, s'all."

"A snack for half of Virginia City!"

Hoss ignored his brother's retort and flashed a mischievous smile.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question was that?" Adam asked as he admired the sheen on his boots.

"The question was, tonight's the big night, ain't it?" Hoss repeated smugly as Joe sauntered down the stairs.

Adam rubbed the side of his neck and turned toward his gloating brother. "You know well and good that I am simply having dinner with an old friend."

The sudden stress in Adam's voice punctuated his trepidation for the evening.

Catching on quickly to the atmosphere of the discussion, Joe felt the need to toss in his two cents. "Yeah. An 'old friend' that's just about as pretty as they come and just as unattached too! Not ta mention she couldn't seem ta take her eyes off you in town last week!"

Adam lobbed the boot brush at Joe, hitting him square on the right thigh.

"Hey, that smarts!" Joe feigned in his best whiny voice.

Remembering just how strongly Adam had described his feelings about Mercy, Hoss feared Joe may have crossed the line with his comments. Losing Mercy in the orphanage fire had nearly destroyed Adam, and Hoss watched him carefully as he placidly walked to the credenza, picked up his gun belt and wrapped it around his hips.

The sudden silence in the room did not go unnoticed by Joe, who immediately realized that his teasing may have been over-the-top. "Hey, Adam," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I . . . I didn't mean any . . . . "

"It's all right, Joe. I know you didn't," Adam said as he situated his hat atop his head. "Just remember, Carrie and I shared a few weeks of puppy-love when we were kids. That's all it was and now we're just friends."

"Sure, Adam. I'll remember," Joe said, an apology implied.

Adam recognized the worried looks on his brothers' faces, and knowing they would most likely brood all evening without assurance that all was well, Adam smiled and tipped his hat. "Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen. Think of me fondly as you dine without the company of a beautiful female maiden. And now, I bid you, adieu."

Pausing just long enough to see a grin on both of his brothers' faces, Adam, with extreme grand gesture, opened the heavy wooden door and left for the evening. As he walked to the barn, his true mood slowed his pace, his heavy heart burdening each and every step.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Carrie smiled when Adam stopped the carriage just outside the café. "Adam, I'm so glad you chose Café Rosa instead of the International. I wasn't sure you would remember!" Immediately, she regretted her choice of words, her face turning pale and worried. "Oh, Adam. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean . . . I mean . . .," she stuttered as a rosy blush filled her porcelain cheeks. "Well . . . It's been years since you and I . . . Damn!"

"It's all right, Carrie," Adam chuckled. "No need to apologize. It has been years since we had dinner here at the café." Adam's mind wandered back to a time when his notion of true love was in reality nothing more than loneliness softened by an innocent friendship. "Now, why wouldn't I remember an evening with such a beautiful young lady?" He nodded, his eyes twinkling mischievously as they had on that night long ago. "Seems to me you found occasion to use inappropriate language that night as well!"

Carrie fluttered her eyelashes innocently, her cheeks flushing, and when Adam dimpled, she felt an old, familiar rush throughout her body. "Adam Cartwright, you stop that!" Carrie ordered as she turned her head sharply away from his gaze. "You know damned well . . . darned well what those dimples of yours do to me!"

Adam smiled and Carrie shivered as his dimples deepened, highlighting his twinkling eyes.

"I wasn't sure they'd still have the same effect after all these years," Adam bragged as he stepped down from the buggy and offered Carrie his hand. "Glad to know I haven't lost my touch!"

As he lifted her down from the carriage, Carrie was conscious of his strong hands wrapped securely around her waist and as her feet touched the ground, the scent of him filled her lungs as she gazed into his sparkling hazel eyes. Her momentary weakness was not lost to Adam.

"Carrie . . ." Adam whispered.

Carrie took two steps backward, away from Adam. "I know," she said softly. "We decided a long time ago, we're better off as friends. I can't help that I'm attracted to you, ya know. You _could_ try being a little less perfect . . . and adorable . . . and smart . . . and . . ."

Adam offered his arm and placed his hand atop hers as they walked toward the café. "And you, my lovely Carrie, could try being a little less beautiful. No wait . . . that would be impossible, for your beauty is endless," Adam said as he held the door to the café open and waved her inside with a flair of his hand.

Once seated, Carrie took a breath, folded her hands atop the table and dove head-first into the subject that over the years had erected a wall of avoidance between them. "Adam," she said as she reached for his hand atop the table, "tell me again why didn't _we_ work?"

Adam smiled, lowered his head, and seemed to search for the answer in the wood grain of the worn restaurant table top.

Carrie laced her delicate fingers with his and waited patiently for his response. A slight squeeze from his hand was the only indication that he was ready to speak.

"We were just kids," Adam explained. "All I thought about was college . . . what I could learn, what I could become. Anyone who didn't share my aspirations seemed . . . frivolous and I just convinced myself that my time could be better spent."

Carrie nodded her head and bit on her upper lip. "And I was one of the immature ones," she said, a sudden, deep sadness filling her tone.

"I'm afraid so, but that was a long time ago, Carr. We've both changed, grown, been hurt . . ." Adam answered, the same despondency in his voice.

Carrie tightened her grasp on his hand and craned her neck, trying to look into his down-cast eyes. "It's all right, Adam. Those weeks that you courted me were the best. When we weren't arguing, that is!"

Adam laughed. The sound touched Carrie's heart and grew inside her, building into what she'd been denying since she'd seen him on the street days ago; on some level, she still loved him and probably always would.

Rosa, the owner of the café, chose that moment to approach the table and request their order. Although Rosa had no idea what their conversation had entailed, both Carrie and Adam were grateful for the interruption.

Halfway through their meal, Adam heard Carrie sigh. Before he could ask what was wrong, he felt a presence behind him and turned just far enough to see Stu Weaver seated at a table near the kitchen door. Not surprisingly, he was dining alone.

"I take it you're not a fan either?" Adam asked as he speared another bite of roast beef.

"Hmm? Oh, you mean Stu?" Carrie said, the disdain in her voice carrying all of her emotions for the man in question. "Let's just say he's been a thorn in my side since the schoolyard and he's been making a giant nuisance of himself for a few months now."

"He's been bothering you?"

The deep concern in his voice surprised Adam as well as Carrie.

"Well . . . yes, actually," Carrie explained as she pushed her potatoes back and forth on her plate. "He's decided that we should be spending more time together than I am willing."

Adam watched as a small drop of gravy slid from the side of Carrie's plate and onto the pristine, white linen tablecloth. "And just how much time together is too much for you?" he asked.

Carrie stopped her assault on the potatoes long enough to look into Adam's eyes. "Not that how much time I spend with anyone is your business . . ." She bit her lip, immediately regretting her curt manner. She knew in her heart that Adam would always care, as a friend. "The truth is," she continued, "anything over the second that it takes me to become nauseous is too much time with Stu!"

Adam wished he hadn't just filled his mouth with a large swig of wine. The next few seconds were filled with impending embarrassment as he tried to swallow the liquid, his desire to laugh aloud nearly causing him to spurt it across the table. Adam's predicament did not go unnoticed by his lovely dinner companion who rather enjoyed his dilemma.

"Really, Adam, the way he treated Hoss and the others, the fights he goaded you into! The man is a toad. No, that's a callous comparison to amphibians everywhere. He's more like a slug. A slimy, squirmy slug," Carrie ranted. "One that won't take 'no' for an answer and is incapable of the ability to fathom why anyone wouldn't bend over and kiss his slug feet for the mere pleasure of breathing the same air as he."

Adam had his napkin smashed tightly against his mouth, still choking down the wine, barely able to swallow.

"What's so funny?" Carrie squealed, knowing full well that she'd always been able to make Adam laugh and wishing he'd remove the napkin so she could once again get lost in his dimples.

After several attempts at speaking, and a couple of sputters and coughs, Adam was able to answer. "Slugs don't have feet!" Adam chortled.

Carrie smiled. "Well, if they did, they'd be much more appealing than Stu Weaver!"

Their conversation remained light as she asked about his brothers and his father, the ranch and Hop Sing. Declining dessert, Carrie watched as Adam took his first bite of warm, juicy, peach pie. As he chewed, Carrie began to blush.

"What?" Adam asked, nearly losing control of a sliver of soft, sugary peach as it slid to the corner of his mouth.

Carrie had, once again, reacted to the dimples that surfaced as Adam worked the bite of pie in his mouth.

"Not the dimples, again!" Adam mused as he wiped the flake of crust from the corner of his lip.

When Adam raised his eyes to Carrie's, he was surprised to see a frown forming on her lovely face. "I was just teasing," he admitted.

But Carrie's frown only deepened and before he could say another word, she lifted her eyes well above his head. At that very moment, Adam felt a familiar, unwelcome presence behind him.

"What do you want, Stu?" Carrie asked.

Without Ben Cartwright to impress, Stu's manners reverted to those he exercised daily. Walking pompously around Adam, he helped himself to an empty chair, pulled it inappropriately close to Carrie and joined them, uninvited, at their table.

"I'm sure you don't mind me joining you now, do you old friend?" Stu grinned at Adam.

"Actually . . ." Adam began.

"Actually, we are having a private evening, Stu," Carrie insisted. "So if you would please . . ."

"A private evening, you say?" Stu mocked. "I thought you told me you were . . . How did you put it? Oh, yes. 'Much too busy to take the time to dine with boys.'"

"That's exactly what I said. And if you'll look closely," Carrie said curtly, "you'll see that I am dining with a man. Not a boy."

Adam settled comfortably back against his chair. "This is gonna be good," he thought. Slowly, he tipped his chair back on two legs, clasped his hands behind his head, and glared at Stu Weaver. Adam knew that Carrie could be very . . . entertaining when riled, but he was prepared to do whatever he deemed necessary to protect her from the likes of Stu.

As Stu glared at Carrie, heat rose in his cheeks and he refused to allow even a brief glance in Adam's direction. "Really?" Stu insisted. "In my opinion, a man would not entertain a young lady in a café when there are two perfectly acceptable, high quality restaurants in town."

Carrie sat forward, placing her hands on either side of her glass of wine. "That's where you're wrong, Stu. Wrong, as usual, that is. You see, a man selects the establishment in which he intends to entertain a lady by taking the lady's preferences into account, just as Adam has done this evening."

Stu reached for Carrie's hand, which she quickly slid away from his. "But, my dear," he said, "a real man . . . One who lives in a comfortable home, on his own, instead of with his brothers and his daddy . . . could surely make better choices than the one made this evening."

Stu chose this moment to look directly at Adam who simply waited, tilted back in his chair, unflinching from Stu's obvious insult and self-satisfied glare.

"I believe you've been talking to me, Stu," Carrie said in her best admonishing tone, "and I happen to be over here!"

Holding his stare at Adam, Stu refused to take instruction from a woman. "What's it like, Adam?" Stu taunted. "Being back home after leaving the nest for . . . What was it? Three years? Is it nice to have Daddy tucking you in again at night?"

Adam remained undaunted by the insults and innuendo, watching as Stu became suspicious of his behavior.

"Stu, that was not very nice. I don't appreciate your speaking to my date in that manner!" Carrie scolded. "Adam has not said one unkind word to you. And I believe I asked you to kindly excuse yourself from this table!"

"Oh, I'll be glad to leave this table, dear Carrie," Stu said, "just as soon as you accept my offer of dinner tomorrow evening."

Carrie folded her hands together atop the table. Had she looked at Adam, she would have seen the slightest upturn of a smile growing on his face. "Stu, Stu, Stu. You poor dear," Carrie said, speaking slowly and distinctly as if to a young child. "Did you graduate from school, Stu?"

Stu looked confused. "You know I did, Carrie."

"Uh huh, uh huh, I see. And Stu, did you attend college?"

Now Stu looked angry. "You know the answer to that too, Carrie. I did go to college."

"Mm hmm, mm hmm, I see. And Stu, did you graduate from college or did you disappoint your drunkard of a father and _flunk out_?" Carrie asked, her voice filled with venom.

Stu was enraged. Adam, quite sure Carrie had gone too far, returned all four legs of his chair to solid ground. "I did NOT flunk out, I dropped out!"

"Oh, excuse me," Carrie said. "I must be ill-informed. But either way, you see, Stu, you are too stupid to understand that you are the last man I would ever go out with. Although I've made admirable attempts to do so, you seem to be too uneducated, or maybe it's just a case of being too pig-headed to comprehend the word 'no'. So please, Stu, leave this table immediately and leave me alone permanently!"

"Well," Stu fumed. "I'm relieved that you've shown your true colors before I made a terrible mistake. It seems that your beauty had me fooled. You are an arrogant, conceited little girl with no manners whatsoever who deserves to be taken in by half a man who isn't even sure of who he is or where he's been for the last few months!"

Adam, hands balled into fists, stood and took one step, ready to head to the other side of the table, and most likely, to Stu's jaw.

"Adam, dear, please take your seat," Carrie suggested.

"I will sit when he is gone," Adam announced.

Carrie, her eyes gleaming and her lips curled in a delicate smile, reached for the wine bottle on their table. "Adam Cartwright was more a man on the day he was conceived than you will be on the day you die," she said as she poured the remainder of the bottle of red wine into Stu Weaver's expensively-dressed lap.

Without a single word, Stu stood as the wine spread and soaked into his trousers. Avoiding a glance at Adam, he looked directly at Carrie. "He should be locked up in a mental ward and you . . . you should be turned over someone's knee and taught some manners and common sense!"

With that, Stu Weaver turned and stomped from the café as several of the other diners and waitresses smiled their appreciation toward Carrie.

"Bravo, sweetheart, Bravo!" Adam said as he applauded and resumed his seat across the table from the feisty woman he remembered so well.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

As the buggy bumped and rattled along, a giggle started deep in Adam's throat.

"Stu wearing wine?" Carrie asked.

"Uh huh!" Adam answered, the giggle blossoming into a full belly laugh.

"Adam! You know you shouldn't encourage me!" Carrie feigned. "How shall I ever discern the difference between right and wrong when those around me promote my intolerable behavior?"

"Carrie, my darling, your behavior will always be intolerable at times, no matter who is around to encourage you! That's one of the things that makes you so very . . . attractive and insufferable!"

The three-quarter moon shone in the sky, brightly enough for Carrie to see Adam's face as his laughter died down. His choice of words did not go unnoticed, and she was forced to resign herself to the fact that for him, the spark was no more.

Adam caught Carrie's eyes briefly, just long enough to see an expression of disappointment on her face. As she twiddled with her hair, a habit he'd observed many times, he knew she was trying to coax herself out of showing her true feelings. Pulling the buggy to the side of the road, he reined the mare to a stop and shifted on the seat to face Carrie.

"I'm sorry, Carrie," Adam whispered, and when she looked into his eyes, his soul shone full of love for another. "I'm sorry if anticipation for this evening gave you the wrong impression."

Carrie twirled her hair twice more, looked up at the stars in the clear night sky and summoned the nerve to speak. "Look at the stars, Adam. So many stars. Thousands of them. They look so close together from here on Earth, yet they're unimaginably distant from one another. See how they dot the cold, lonely, black sky with their radiance?" Carrie paused, afraid to let the words be said. "Who is she?"

"Humph . . ." Adam dropped his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, raising his eyes to look at Carrie's lovely, moonlit face. "You know?"

Her bottom lip trembled. Adam had just confirmed what she knew in her heart. A woman had found her way into his immeasurable soul. Carrie knew her feelings over the past week had only been a dream. Since that day in Virginia City, she'd spent hours wishing and hoping that they'd find the attraction they'd shared, albeit briefly, and just as many hours, if not more, wondering how she'd survive losing him all over again. "I guess the truth is, I knew the minute I saw you in the street last week," Carrie managed to say as she sat wringing her hands, her voice quivering with each word. "She's a very lucky woman. Will you be joining her shortly?"

Adam stiffened as he looked into the sky, spotting one single star that appeared to be casting its light stronger than all the others. "No, I won't be leaving the Ponderosa," Adam said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Then she'll be coming here," Carrie said, trying to sound excited by the prospect. "I'm sure your father will be . . ."

"Carrie," Adam interrupted, "she won't be coming here. She . . . she died several months ago."

"Oh, Adam . . . I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to . . . Damn it all to hell, I'm such a jackass . . . I'm so sorry."

Adam smiled and shook his finger at her.

Amid the tears that threatened to overflow onto her porcelain cheeks, Carrie giggled. "You remember," she said.

"Yes, I do," Adam said smirking. "This finger should've fallen off by now, I've used it so many times to remind you to watch your language!"

Carrie took his reprimanding finger in her hand and laced her fingers with his, just as she'd done many times long ago. Slowly, she lowered their entwined hands onto her knee. "I am sorry, Adam. I can see how much you . . . loved her," Carrie said as she squeezed his hand in hers.

"I did, and I still do," Adam admitted, his face covered with pain and regret. "For a long time, I wasn't ready to tell her, and then when I was, it was too late."

Carrie took his face in her hands and buried herself in his eyes. "When you're ready to talk about her, I'll be here, as your friend, to listen." She kissed Adam's cheek and then turned to face forward in the buggy. She knew Adam did not give his love easily or carelessly and any woman deserving of his love should be respected. Carrie both envied this woman and was held in awe of her memory. Carrie closed her tear-filled eyes, squeezing them tightly. She inhaled, breathing in all that was Adam and as she exhaled, she accepted the fact that no matter what, as it always had, Adam's happiness still meant more to her than did her own.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

The weeks ahead were spent breaking the twenty new horses Ben and Joe had acquired on a trip to Genoa. Time not spent enjoying the exhilaration and enduring the pain of busting the broncos was devoted to the steps for readying the ranch for the short autumn season. The late afternoons had already settled into their gradual cooling. Chilly nights followed by sunny, comfortably warm days signaled the time of year when daylight would soon become a precious commodity for the ranchers and farmers alike. Although large amounts of snowfall were less frequent at the Ponderosa than they were in the mountains covered with sweet-smelling pines, the Cartwrights had learned by experience that being prepared for the worst could make the worst bearable.

With the daily chores mounting atop the responsibilities from the new herd and approaching winter, none of the Cartwrights had managed a trip of length to Virginia City in weeks. This was the norm for the time of year, and though Ben was proud that his sons wasted little time complaining, he knew the real reason for their lack of objection. For the first time in three seasons, Hoss and Joe worked alongside Adam. Although Hoss was never one to complain at length, Ben noted an unusual amount of energy and enjoyment in the simplest of his duties. Joseph, always the one to become disenchanted with ranching when entertainment and relaxation were denied, spent every waking moment beside his eldest brother, eagerly taking direction from him without question or sarcasm.

Most fathers would be rightfully satisfied to see this behavior between their children, but Ben's contentment extended beyond satisfaction and swelled over into unimaginable pride. He knew it was one thing to be compelled to care for a sibling due to simple genetics. But his sons respected and defended one another, appreciated their differences and similarities, and most importantly, his sons loved one another.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Over the past several years, Virginia City had grown into a booming town. The majority of its mines were thriving, save for a few that had been picked clean over the years. The surrounding timber businesses profited from the need for mining timbers as well as the expansion of the railroads. Even the farms that had struggled for so long were showing potential with the addition of windmills, wells and irrigation. There were always new faces on the streets of the city, as well as those belonging to the earliest residents of the area. There were two schools where once the need was so small that a rented room was all that was necessary to house the handful of pupils. Several mercantile shops increased the demand for controlled pricing while the banks in the town expanded and flourished along with the town's successes. Boarding houses brought income for the spinsters and widows who ran the establishments out of loneliness as well as necessity. Dressmaking shops joined the ranks of the tailor shops as more families and females moved into the growing neighborhood. Barbershops, livery stables, hotels and blacksmiths could be found on either end of town, ready to welcome weary travelers to Virginia City.

Naturally, this progress brought with it the need for saloons, brothels and other unsavory businesses hidden behind darkened doorways and shrouded windows. It was in one of these establishments that Stu Weaver had spent hours drinking heavily and losing badly in a high stakes, all-night game of poker.

Sunrise brought the usual magnificent scents, sights, and smells to most of the citizens who made their homes from the foot to the crest of the mountains. In the closed back room of the Bucket of Blood Saloon, that Thursday morning was an unwelcome, continuing assault on the senses of the three remaining players. The stench of sweat, cigars, whiskey and stale beer clouded their minds as the final hand produced one drunken winner and three inebriated, unhappy losers.

Stu Weaver had taken the last few pots, his luck changing for the better as evening turned into day. While he scraped his winnings from the center of the table, his opponents casually pushed themselves away from the table with groans of excuses for their unfortunate losses. As they ambled toward the door, each one retrieved their gun from Susie Ann. Their self-imposed rule of 'no guns in the game' seemed childish to Stu, but he'd gone along with the majority, tossing his holster into the pile before tapping the knife hidden inside his vest.

With his gains tucked safely into his pockets, Stu bid the other men goodbye and agreed to give them a chance at winning back their losses in a game scheduled for later that week. As he staggered past Susie Ann, he wrapped his arm roughly around her waist, pulled her close and gruffly kissed her on the lips. With a loud harrumph, she pushed Stu away, held out her left hand and watched as he dropped a few coins into her palm. He leaned in for a second kiss, but Susie Ann turned on her heels, sped out into the empty saloon and disappeared up the back stairs before Stu could grab his hat and gun from the table.

After spending the night in the low-light of the oil lamps, the morning sun blared against Stu's hung-over, weary body. Leaning against the wall of the saloon, he rolled the kinks from his neck and flexed his stiffened fingers, his mood lightening as he thought of the money he'd won in just a few hours of time. The scent of hot grease and freshly baked bread reminded him that he'd not eaten for quite a while and he aimed himself toward Café Rosa, his mouth watering at the thought of bacon, eggs and hot coffee.

Once seated in the café, Stu was rewarded with a quickly-delivered cup of strong coffee. He grimaced at the bitter taste as he sipped the steaming liquid. Glancing around the room, he spotted a few acquaintances.

"Well," Stu thought, "if it isn't Mr. Garrett, pompous president of the town's largest bank. And there's Mr. and Mrs. Anders. It's beyond me how the owners of the smallest ranch around could afford to eat in a restaurant . . . even a dump like this! Let's see . . . Mr. Madison and his lady friend, soon to be married. Not very attractive, I must say. But then, I guess that's the best he could do."

In front of Stu, at a small, quiet table sat three strangers: two young children and one strikingly beautiful young woman. Stu noticed her lovely blonde hair and when she stood to help one of the children with their food, he nearly drooled into his coffee as his eyes inspected her shapely body.

Wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin, the little voice Stu heard all too often reminded him that if she were in the company of two children, she was either married or a widow, two attributes he shied away from at all times. With a slight sigh, he placed the napkin back onto his lap, laced his fingers and propped his elbows on the table. The waitress chose that moment to deliver Stu's breakfast.

"Excuse me, sir," she said as she waited patiently for Stu to remove his elbows from the table. "Sir? Excuse me."

Still enamored by the attractive young woman tending to the children, Stu hadn't even noticed the waitress holding his eagerly-anticipated breakfast. "Huh? Oh, sorry," he mumbled, slowly moving his elbows so she could set his plate down, but keeping his intruding eyes and ears glued to the scene at the next table.

"Like this?" the young boy asked, the woman watching carefully as he duplicated her instructions and cautiously cut his meat with the sharp knife.

"You did a fine job! Just remember, always show respect for sharp objects. Take your time and concentrate," she added as she took her seat and handed the little girl, her blue eyes bubbling with delight, an out-of-reach glass of milk.

"Fank you," the strawberry blonde-haired little one said before swallowing the remainder of her milk.

"You're both welcome," the woman replied as she reached for her napkin and wiped the excess milk from the giggling little girl's lips.

_"_What a shame. A waste of a beautiful woman_," _Stu thought. _"_Pity . . . She tied herself down to one man and look what happened. She's responsible for two little brats with sticky fingers and dirty faces. A beautiful woman should never saddle herself with a child."

Feeling the intensity of Stu's eyes scanning her body, the woman turned slowly to face him, a challenging glare in her deep, caramel eyes. Stu returned her glower with a seedy-looking grin, licked his lips, and then returned his attention to his meal. Sickened by the stranger's visual assault, the woman made short time of gently cleaning the little girl's hands and face before gathering the well-mannered children and leaving the café. Once outside, the she looked up at the intense, blue sky and breathed in deeply, the beauty and clean air flushing out the last traces of the repulsive man inside. The children stood patiently on either side of her, ready to offer their hands to the adult who would guide them to their next destination. A moment later, the woman accepted their tiny hands with a broad smile and the three walked down the wooden-planked sidewalk of Virginia City in the direction of the telegraph office.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"May I help you, ma'am?" Ed Ferguson, the telegraph operator, asked.

"Yes, sir. One moment, please," the young woman requested.

Ed nodded his head as he stood from his chair and approached the opening at the sidewalk. He smiled as he observed the reason for the slight delay.

"Take your brother's hand and both of you, please, stand next to me while I send a telegram."

"Yes, ma'am," the children replied in unison.

As she penned the message to be sent, Ed noticed the youngsters' wide-eyed gaze as the everyday happenings of Virginia City took place before their eyes. He marveled at the open wonderment in their faces as the hustle and bustle of people, horses and wagons sped to and fro in front of them.

"You like children, sir?" the woman asked. She'd clearly been finished with the note for a few seconds and had been studying Ed's face as he watched the children in her charge.

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am. Yes . . . Yes, I do like children. And yours are so well-behaved," Ed replied, his face blushed with embarrassment. "Now, let's see, that'll be thirty-five cents for the telegram and . . ." he said, reaching behind the counter, the remainder of his comment delivered in a hushed whisper, "if it's all right with you, ma'am, I'd like to give the children these candies."

The woman nodded her head, smiled as she reached into her small satchel and with her gloved hands, removed thirty-five cents and placed it on the counter.

Ed smiled as he scooped the coins and then opened the half-door to the sidewalk.

"You youngins have behaved very well while you were waiting. How would you each like a piece of candy?" Ed asked as he crouched down to their level.

With eyes growing as big as saucers, the children looked up at the woman who quickly nodded her approval. The young boy let go of the tiny girl's hand to accept the offered candy but instantly thought better of his actions and took the girls hand once again, as he had been instructed to do earlier. Raising their free hands, the children accepted the candies with a polite "Thank you, sir" and a brief glance at the woman for permission to eat the candies then and there.

Ed stood in front of the three grinning and shaking his head in disbelief. "Ma'am, your children are about the best behaved little ones I've ever seen! You and your husband shore must be very proud!"

The woman smiled, a half-hearted smile, as moisture welled-up in her eyes. She looked away for a moment, then said, "Thank you, sir, for the telegram and the candies. If it wouldn't be too much bother, you see, we've just this morning arrived in Virginia City. Could you direct me to one of the town's boarding houses? One that you think might accept children?" Ed responded immediately, assuring the woman that Mrs. Mazie Brighton's Boarding House was the place she was looking for.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Late that afternoon, as the sun bathed Virginia City in its sweltering glow, cousins Alyssa Tramor and Carrie Baker made their way toward the edge of town, the baskets they carried filled with freshly harvested vegetables and several jars of homemade jellies. The giggling young ladies were heading to Mrs. Brighton's boarding house. Each year, the garden the young women tended produced an abundance of vegetables and fruits, and they made it a point to share with their adopted Aunt Mazie. Alyssa bounced onto the porch of the old house and knocked with her usual flair.

"I'd know that knock anywhere!" Mazie yelled as she opened the door. "Well, if it isn't the two prettiest young things in Virginia City!"

Carrie and Alyssa each placed a kiss on the older woman's cheeks, walked straight into the kitchen and went about putting the contents of the baskets in their proper places. When Carrie turned to open the pantry, she was startled by an adorable little girl standing silently next to the door.

"Well, hello there, sweetheart! And who might you be?" Carrie asked, her question directed to Aunt Mazie.

"Oh! Forgive my manners!" Mazie apologized. "Carrie, Alyssa, I'd like you to meet Mary. She and her brother, Danny, just this morning arrived in Virginia City with their uh . . . their friend, Miss Kinkead."

Just then, Danny came around the corner and stood shyly looking at the two new faces.

"And here is Danny!" Mazie said. "Danny, this is Carrie and this is Alyssa. They are very, very good friends of mine."

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Carrie. Pleased to meet you, Miss . . . Miss . . ." Danny scrunched his face as he tried to recall the name.

"Miss Alyssa." Alyssa said as she shook Danny's tiny hand. "And we're very pleased to meet you both!"

Mary smiled, but waited until Danny took his place next to her before raising her eyes to her new friends.

"He's very protective of his little sister," Mazie whispered, "and they're both quite shy."

Carrie reached into a basket for two small pears, and then offered them to the children. Mary, as always, looked to Danny for permission to accept the fruit, and Danny waited until Mrs. Brighton nodded her approval. As they went outside to sit on the porch and enjoy their snack, Carrie looked with worry to her aunt.

"They're adorable!" Carrie whispered. "Awfully polite, and so very shy. Almost too shy. And what about this Miss Kinkead?"

Mazie handed Alyssa three cups and saucers and nodded to Carrie to bring the coffee pot to the table. The three women sat watching the children through the screened door. After a sip of the strong brew, Mazie told them everything she knew about her newest boarders. She was interrupted once, very politely, when Danny asked for a cloth to clean Mary's 'juicy face'.

"That young boy is going to grow up to be an amazing young man!" Carrie marveled. "He tends to her as if he's more than her big brother . . . almost as if he is her protector!"

Mazie nodded. "I was just getting to the part of the story that might explain their devotion to one another. As I said, Miss Kinkead was running a very small orphanage and school in a very rural area, somewhere up north, I've surmised." Mazie leaned in closer to the young ladies and lowered her voice. "It seems that Indians attacked Danny's and Mary's home and killed their parents and older brother.

"Oh, my heavens," Alyssa whispered, "how awful!"

"I can not imagine . . ." Mazie added. "Then the children ended up in the orphanage in Miss Kinkead's charge." Glancing at the porch, Mazie continued. "Those two adore Miss Kinkead. You can see how well behaved they are. And more polite than most adults I've known!"

"What are they doing in Virginia City?" Carrie asked as she refilled their cups.

"Thank you, dear," Mazie said. "They arrived just this morning after quite a lengthy trip. It seems that Miss Kinkead is looking for a teaching position. She'd heard about Virginia City from someone and thought it would be as good a place as any to start. Said she wanted to see the majestic pines and the sky-blue lake. In fact, when she talked about that, she got an awfully far-away look on that pretty face of hers. Says she might know someone who lives around here, but come to think of it, she never did mention who that might be!"

"Excuse me, Mrs. Brighton," Danny said, his soft voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, Danny?"

"May Mary and I go up to our room and play, please?"

Carrie and Alyssa grinned at the adorable little boy clutching tightly to his sister's hand.

"Of course you may, Danny."

"Thank you, ma'am. Nice to meet you, Miss Carrie and Miss . . . Miss Alyssa," Danny grinned as he remembered the names correctly. He and Mary took two steps before Mary pulled him to a halt.

"Missa Bwighton," Mary said, her head tilted downward and her blazing blue eyes raised as far as possible, "will she be back soon?"

"Yes, Mary," Mazie replied. "Miss Kinkead will be back shortly, I promise. She went to see someone about a job."

She turned back, lowered her eyes and said, "Fank you, ma'am. Miss Carrie and Miss Lissa, nice a meetcha." A second later, they were gone.

"Oh my stars, I think I'm in love!" Carrie giggled, her eyes brimming with tears. "I just have to meet this Miss Kinkead!"


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

"How much longer's it gonna take ya ta git that hay pushed back?" Hoss whined as he stood looking up into the loft at his older brother. "We've got the rest o' the day off, in case ya forgot!"

"It's gonna take as long as it takes! Unless of course, you wanna heft yourself on up here and help!" Adam challenged.

Hoss shook his head, a negative response to Adam's suggestion as well as a means to toss off the fallen bits of hay that had landed atop his head. "I done my chores already. Joe's already in there takin' a bath! Now why don't you quit yer jawin' 'n' hurry up so we kin get cleaned up 'n' inta town afore the Sunday mornin' bells start ringin'!"

"Hey!" Adam wondered aloud. "Would you look at that?"

"Huh?" Hoss mumbled. "Whatja find?"

His eyes glowing with wonder, Adam brushed away a few small piles of hay while Hoss made his way up the ladder and settled in behind his brother in the northernmost corner of the loft.

"Well, I'll be . . . I plum forgot about that!" Hoss said, his voice thin and airy, filled with emotion and surprise.

"Me too," Adam agreed. "I wrote about it in my journal when I was . . . well, when I was 'William'. I remembered a beautiful, blonde-haired woman, but I could never see her face in my memory. And I remembered these."

The brothers, each lost in a private moment of their pasts, sat silently as they stared intently at the initials carved into the wooden wall in the loft. Adam's fingers traced the first two initials, and then followed with the rest: A.C., H.C., J.C., and M.C.

"I don't remember much about that day," Hoss said as he picked up small pieces of hay and absentmindedly tossed them aside. Memories of his childhood with Marie came rushing to him, each one bearing both happiness and a sense of loss. "Mostly, I remember you 'n' me worryin' that Pa'd be mad at Mamma fer lettin' us carve our initials in the wall."

Adam nodded, then grinned. "I remember Joe giggling when a sharp piece of hay stabbed you in the rump . . . and I remember what Marie said."

"What'd she say, Adam?" Hoss asked, tossing yet another scrap of hay.

"She said that you, Joe, and I were forever joined together by Pa. Said she wanted a way to be connected with you and me, even though she wasn't our real mother." Adam paused, a warmth enveloping him, a mother's hug from years ago. He cleared his throat. "She watched, with that patient smile that always lit her face, while we each carved our initials in the wall. Mamma wanted us to always remember that we could count on each other for anything, anytime, anyplace . . . She did that for me, Hoss," Adam said, his voice catching as he once again traced Marie's initials on the wall.

"What'dya mean, she did it for you?" Hoss asked.

Hoss watched Adam rest himself back against the wall, knees raised, hands fiddling with a long stick of straw. His face faded to a far-away place, his eyes staring at the straw as it moved from finger to finger. He was watching a vision from the past as if it were happening in that moment.

"I know you don't remember, Hoss. I . . . Well, I'm ashamed to say, I wasn't all that nice to Marie for quite some time. I resented her coming here, taking charge of you when I was . . . I was supposed to be taking care of you."

"I don't understand, Adam. You're my brother. Marie was . . . she was my mamma."

Adam pursed his lips and clenched his jaw as he snapped the straw in half and tossed it away into the pile. Nothing to occupy his hands brought a swell of insecurity. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then swiped his hand down his face, over his mouth and off his chin.

His gestures were all too familiar to Hoss, and he empathized with Adam's struggle. "Adam, you don't hafta . . ."

"It's all right, Hoss," Adam said. "You should know . . . I just don't want to bring up anything that might cause _you_ pain."

Hoss furrowed his eyebrows and stared for a moment at the initials in the wall. "I'd like ta hear it, Adam, but only if you wanna tell me."

Adam smiled at his brother, a half-lipped smile that opened his dimple and put a twinkle in his eyes.

Hoss listened as Adam took him back to a small cabin built along one of the many trails heading west. The cabin was a ramshackle pioneer way station, a place to rest and meet up with other wagon trains filled with people just like the Cartwrights, dreaming of a home in the new frontier. But the much anticipated way station quickly became the place where tragedy would strike, taking the life of Inger Cartwright, Hoss's mother.

" 'Take care of your brother, Adam' was the last thing she said to me," Adam recalled bitter sweetly. "You have to remember, Hoss, she'd been my mother for over a year. The only mother I'd ever known. I loved her. Very much. And she left you in my charge. At least that was my six-year-old way of interpreting what she'd said."

Hoss's stillness garnered Adam's attention. The hurt and wistful sadness in his younger brother's eyes wrenched his heart and the silence that followed hung heavily in the cool barn air.

"I don't think she meant it that way, Adam," Hoss ssaid. "But when a fella's that little, I kin see how ya'd take it that way." Hoss, shoulders slumped, tossed aside a handful of hay. "My mother was your mamma 'n' then Little Joe's mother was Mamma to us all."

Scooping straw into his palm, Adam pulled out a select piece and busied his hands once again. "You're right, Hoss. But there's more to it. You see, the men on the wagon train were busy all day. Often, even into the night. Pa was their leader, and you know Pa! Naturally, he was always available to help anyone who needed it. I knew that . . . and I respected that. So I made it my responsibility to take care of you and me so Pa could be there for the others. And when we arrived at our destination, Pa was weighed down with the struggle to build the Ponderosa, so I took on all that I was capable of doing to help. I guess I didn't look at myself as Ben Cartwright's child, but as Ben Cartwright's assistant."

Hoss leaned further into the wall, extending his long legs out in front of him. "Adam . . . Are you sayin' that Pa wasn't around fer us?"

Adam chuckled nervously at his brother's confusion. "Guess I'm not explaining it well. Pa was busy, never doubt that. And there were times when I wished he'd be home more often." He paused, sorting through the thoughts of a young boy and trying to put them into the words of a grown man. "It's not that he wasn't there for us; it was more that I was determined to fool him into thinking we didn't need him. And when he brought Marie home, I was bound and determined that I'd still be the person that Pa counted on. So, I pushed Marie away and made it obvious . . . painfully obvious, I'm afraid, that I was to take care of you and she was not needed . . . or wanted."

Hoss heard the catch in Adam's voice and his heart ached for the brother he'd known and the brother Adam had become.

"And that selfishness extended to Pa as well. If Pa had a problem, I made it known to Marie that he should come to me and not her."

Hoss looked down at his hands folded in his lap. After all these years and the tragic death of Marie, he could still hear resentment ringing in Adam's words. Resentment that thrived right alongside more guilt than any boy or man should be expected to bear.

"Then, Little Joe came along. Now, I had to share Pa's free time with you, Marie, and a baby. A baby that I thought I should be in charge of, just as I'd been with you . . . I must have made her life miserable!" Adam admitted as his eyes welled with tears.

The wind outside pushed against the barn, making the loft floor creak and moan as the horses below reacted with blows and knickers. Adam and Hoss sat in silence as a gamut of memories painted portraits in their minds. It was Adam who broke the lingering stillness.

"I remember when Joe was about eighteen-months-old. He'd had a rather fitful day, as I recall. And you had a cold, a bad one, and Marie had spent the day fussing over you. I came inside after doing the last of my chores and Marie was writing in her journal."

"I didn't know Mamma kept journals!" Hoss exclaimed.

"Only the one," Adam replied. "You know Pa has always kept them. She let him talk her into trying one, but it didn't suit her fancy. How did she put it . . . 'I keep the memories in my heart and my heart will share them with my mind whenever I ask it to'."

Adam smiled as he recalled her lilting voice. "Anyway, there she was, writing in her journal about your cold and Joe's latest escapades. Pa walked in, exhausted from a hard day. After kissing Marie, hugging you, asking about your fever, and having a brief tickling war with Joe, he looked at me and reminded me that I'd forgotten to oil the hinges on the barn door."

The anguish on Adam's face nearly broke Hoss's heart; the stoic Adam Cartwright, so distraught over something that had happened so long ago. Hoss wanted nothing more than to reach out to his brother.

"So," Adam continued as he peeled the straw into sections, "I stormed out of the house and into the barn and straight up here into what I _thought_ would be the privacy of the loft."

Hoss sat forward, pulling his knees toward his chest. "What happened?"

"A few minutes later, Marie came out to the barn. She had Joe on her hip and you following right alongside her. She called me over to the ladder and handed Joe up to me." Adam closed his eyes and in the darkness, felt the weight of baby Joe in his arms, the smell of his soft, thick hair and the softness of his skin. "I remember thinking she was crazy for letting a little baby come into the loft. Then she helped you get up and then she climbed up herself!"

"Inta the loft?" Hoss asked, his eyes big as saucers. "Mamma?"

"That's what I said! Marie climbed up, too. I was sitting right here in the corner, holding Joe, and you were right there beside me." Adam touched his thigh, remembering a young Hoss as he scooted tightly next to him. "She crawled over and pulled a pocketknife out of her dress pocket! I tell you, the things that ran through my eleven-year-old brain would shock the men in the Nevada State Prison!"

Hoss chuckled and leaned closer to Adam, anxious for the rest of the tale.

"She set the knife down, reached for Joe, and told me to pick up the knife and open it." Adam shook his head as he reached for another handful of hay. "She said Pa was always writing things down so he'd never forget them, so maybe we needed to do the same thing. She told me to carve my initials into the wall. I gotta tell ya, Hoss, I thought maybe she'd lost her mind! The look on my face must have said exactly what I was thinking because she said Pa would never need to know."

The confusion on Hoss's face was reminiscent of Adam's face all those years ago.

"As I carved my initials, you scooted up against Marie so close you nearly sat on top of her! Guess you were worrying about what Pa would think too."

"The barn was brand, spankin' new about then, wasn't it?" Hoss asked. "Pa wouldn'tve been too happy about havin' the walls carved up, that's fer shore!"

"That's right. Anyway, as I carved, she told me that if, like Pa said, writing something down meant it was there forever, then she wanted our initials next to hers on this wall. When I was finished with mine, she had me hold your hand to help you carve yours."

"I don't remember that, Adam . . . Wish I did."

Adam smiled. "Then you and I both added Joe's. She handed Joe to me so she could do hers and when she asked where she should put them, I told her at the top, above mine. She thought about it for a minute, then she said 'no'. Said Pa's sons should always come first, before her, no matter what . . . . That her initials should be at the bottom. A.C., H.C., J.C., M.C. She did that for me, Hoss, so that anytime I doubted things, I could come out here and look at this wall. Then I'd know she wouldn't come between Pa and me."


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Reluctantly, Adam readied himself for a visit to Virginia City, his thoughts dwelling upon his earlier discussion with Hoss. Stirring the shaving soap now beginning to foam in his mug, he stared into the mirror, his face fading into the face of sixteen-year-old Hoss as he recalled the day he'd taught Hoss to shave. His instruction had been concise and he'd followed each step with a demonstration on his own stubble. Adam recalled Hoss's face, his piercing blue eyes intent on every movement, his mouth and lips mimicking Adam's as if to rehearse what would soon become a daily ritual dance. Adam blinked, and the vision of Hoss faded. Once again, Adam stirred the foam and applied the frothy cream to his chin. He thought of the small nick Hoss had given himself that morning so long ago; a nick that Hoss treated as a battle-scarred sign of manhood until Adam reminded him that performing the task without cuts was the objective. Lost so deeply in this memory, Adam tasted the bitter soap as he absentmindedly brushed one stroke a little too far to the left.

Memories continued while Adam dressed for the evening. Clad in his pinstriped trousers, he stood in front of his mirror as he guided his muscular arms into his crisp white shirt. The starched fabric brushed against his nearly-healed back, the scars from his burns making him wince from the brief irritation. Straightening the shirt on his frame, he fastened the buttons from bottom to top. Halfway through the buttons, he stopped as he realized he was grinning, recalling a youngsters' debate between Hoss and himself that had lasted nearly four months. Hoss insisted that shirts should be buttoned from the top down while Adam was firm in his belief that the process should begin at the bottom and end at the top. It had been Marie who'd settled the debate when Adam and Hoss had overheard her explaining to four-year-old Little Joe that his brothers' arguing was silly since either way, they both were very handsome once their shirts were buttoned. The sound of Marie's voice filled Adam's room as he finished his buttons and grabbed a black string tie from his drawer.

After tucking the tie beneath his collar, Adam began the familiar task of knotting it just so. From the depths of his memory came the voice of his youngest brother, Joe, dashing down the stairs as he cried, _'_Mamma! Pa! Adam's killin' Hoss! Stop him! Huwwy!_' _Adam pulled the black knot into place, shaking his head as he chuckled aloud. He'd been teaching seven-year-old Hoss the proper way to knot his tie; a technique Hoss had to this day been unwilling to master. As he'd tugged on Hoss's tie, Hoss watched in the mirror with a careful eye, his protruding tongue matching the movements. With one last pull, Adam declared the demonstration over, but not before Hoss had complained loudly. _'_Dadgummit, Adam! This thing is so tight! You're tryin' ta kill me!' And with that, Little Joe had vanished from the room to beg for his parents' help in saving his big brother.

As he brushed his silky, raven hair, a long-realized yet seldom-admitted understanding washed over Adam. Even though Marie had assumed her role as mother, he'd still managed to fulfill Inger's request. He had taken good care of his brother.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Riding alongside his brothers, Joe couldn't help but notice the change in Adam's mood. _He seems . . . lighter. Like a little bit of that weight he's been carrying has been lifted from his shoulders_. A smile crept across Joe's face.

"Hey, Short Shanks, what's got you so all-fired happy?" Hoss teased.

"Huh?" Joe grunted, then masked his private thoughts by flaunting his usual 'headin'-to-town' demeanor. "Oh, just thinkin' about the pretty gals countin' the seconds 'til I get to town and the poker games waitin' to be won . . . by me!"

Hoss snorted his amusement at Joe's delusions.

"Now, let's not get carried away, Little Brother. I'm feeling a bit like a challenging game of poker myself!" Adam crowed.

A private glance between Joe and Hoss brought smiles to them both. This was the first time since Adam's return that he'd admitted looking forward to an evening in town. Settling easily back into the familiar banter the brothers had always shared, Hoss chimed in with his take on the prospects for the evening.

"Well now, brothers, it jist might be that them there gals are waitin' for a big ole man like me ta show them a good time." Hoss sat tall in his saddle, shaking his head regally from side to side. "And I do have one of the best poker-faces in the territory!"

"If you two don't stop your jawin' and get to ridin', the pretty gals'll all be taken by the time we get there!" Joe remarked as he coaxed Cochise to a faster pace.

Adam and Hoss wasted no time catching up with Joe and the three rode into town side-by-side. Just as they approached the first empty hitching post, a roar of shouts and screams joined the honky-tonk piano music coming from the Bucket of Blood. Hoss grinned and Joe rubbed his hands together in enthusiastic anticipation. As they sauntered toward the saloon the sounds became clearer and the notion that a fight had already broken out was apparent.

Joe pushed the old, wooden saloon doors open and cockily stepped inside. Before Hoss and Adam could enter, a broken chair sailed past Joe's head. He ducked, spun on his heels and dove toward the protection of the bar. Hoss and Adam entered more cautiously, taking spots against the saloon wall. The upturned tables, poker chips, shards of glass and bits and pieces of broken chairs littering the floor made it difficult at first to locate the source of the brawl. Still crouched behind the bar, Joe bobbed his head up and down in an effort to watch the action and protect himself from flying debris. Just as Hoss caught sight of one of the ruffians, Adam, arms folded across his chest, calmly sidestepped a whiskey bottle as it soared past his ear and crashed against the wall. As he quickly calculated the angle of descent, he was able to trace the bottle's path directly to the man who'd thrown it his way. Bloodied and obviously drunk, Stu Weaver staggered, righted himself against a table, wound his right arm back and then swung with amazing accuracy at a cowboy's jaw.

Joe managed to inch his way out from behind the bar and past two patrons who were feverishly accepting bets on the outcome of the fight. He took his place standing next to Hoss. "Of all the people who could be in the saloon tonight, it had to be Weaver! Has Adam seen him yet?" Joe asked, trying to whisper, but raising his voice against the din of the crowd.

"Yep. He saw him. Jist now, I think." Hoss winced as the stranger plowed his head into Stu's stomach, knocking him to the floor. "Ya think we outta git Adam 'n' leave?"

Without hesitation, Joe replied, "That'd be the smart thing to do. But you know Adam. He's not gonna let Stu Weaver or anyone else chase him away from a public place. Especially not Stu Weaver."

Hoss nodded his agreement as Adam crossed the distance between them.

"What do you suppose all this is about?" Adam wondered aloud, not expecting an answer from anyone there.

"All right, now! Break it up!" Sheriff Coffee yelled as he burst into the saloon, gun drawn and face afire. "I said break it up!" he added as Stu landed one final punch to the stranger's chest. "Mister, I don't know who _you_ are, but Stu! I've about had it with your fightin' 'n' causin' trouble. Now both of ya, let's go. Maybe a night in a cell'll smack some sense inta ya."

"But, Sheriff!" Stu cried. "He started the whole . . ."

"I don't care who started it!" Roy yelled. "I'm finishin' it right this minute! Now move!"

The Cartwright brothers watched as the two men were escorted out of the saloon, across the street, and into the Virginia City jail. From inside the saloon, the sounds of tables being righted and chairs sliding across the floor to their places accompanied the softened mumble of voices as the patrons calmed down and returned to their evening's festivities.

"Well now, that was . . . different," Adam said as he leaned heavily against a pillar.

"What'dya mean?" Hoss asked.

Adam folded his arms across his chest, tilted his head ever so slightly and continued. "Roy didn't get any details about the fight. Didn't ask any questions. Just hauled them both off to jail."

Both Joe and Hoss had a hunch regarding Roy's behavior, but neither would reveal their thoughts to Adam. Feeling Adam's curiosity mounting in the lingering silence, Joe finally spoke up.

"Roy's probably just getting sick and tired of breaking up fights day in and day out. Who knows how many times he's already been over here today alone! Come on, I'm buyin' the first round."

Hoss slapped Adam on the chest, snapping his attention from across the street. "Didja hear that, Older Brother? Lil Brother here is buying the first round!"

Adam shook his head but hung back several seconds longer, staring through the darkened street at the Virginia City Jail.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning, the whizz-woosh of a large blade saw was the first sound Adam heard. Though he'd had just five beers the night before, it had been quite some time since he'd had more than one. Along with a dull, thudding headache, the lingering alcohol in his system triggered a snoring symphony throughout the night, leaving a taste worthy of week-long, trail-ridden socks in his mouth. Rays of sunlight crept into his room, peeking in along the sides of the window blinds and stinging his eyes. Immediately, Adam clamped his eyes shut as tightly as possible, shifted to his left side, pulled the woven blanket up to his chin and tried in vain to return to sleep. The muffled voices outside were easily recognizable through the closed window. His father and youngest brother conversed with enthusiasm in what sounded to Adam like some strange, foreign tongue. Flipping to his right side, he punched into his pillow in a feeble attempt at better comfort, settled his head into the fluffy softness and exhaled loudly and deeply. When the muted voices returned, an angry, higher-pitched tone had been added to the mix. Hop Sing, the Cartwright's cook and houseman, apparently ranting about some newly arisen problem, brought a slight snicker to Adam's face. Now that sleep was no longer an option, he pulled his arm out from under his head, tossed the blankets back and swung his feet to the chilly, morning floor.

Rarely the last to arise and face the new day, Adam stretched his neck, cocking his head from side to side. A slight crunching sound, as he tilted to the left, brought his hand up to massage the stiffened muscles. He surveyed his room: the furniture and its placement, his belongings and most importantly, the permeating feeling of security and complacency. This observation had become a morning ritual since his return to the Ponderosa. Although he knowingly dismissed this ceremony as his own personal way of celebrating his return to familiar things and surroundings, he knew deep inside that this was his way of making sure he started each day knowing for certain that he was indeed Adam Cartwright.

The thud of a dropped log startled him from his inspection. Sliding his feet into the warmth of his slippers, he trudged across the room toward the window, scratching his head and running his fingers through his tousled hair. Raising the sash, he leaned down and poked his head into view. "How do you expect a body to sleep with that racket going on?" he shouted.

Joe was the first to raise his eyes toward Adam's window. With his hands on his hips and his bare chest puffed out like a peacock, Joe reminded Adam of a few pertinent facts. "I guess your advanced years have taken a toll on you, Older Brother! Some of us have been up and working since the crack of dawn!"

"This," Adam said, his voice overflowing with sarcasm, "from the man who's had to be roused from his bed more times than I could possibly count!"

"He's got ya there, Short Shanks!" Hoss added as he clapped Joe on the back.

"Now how about we stop this chatter and get back to running this ranch!" Ben suggested with as much false vibrato as he could muster.

Inside, his heart warmed with a smile of contentment as his sons fell effortlessly into their familiar banter. The ever-changing way of life on the Ponderosa had once again opened its doors to allow a touch of normalcy, a return to a moment when guards were down and emotions took a back-seat to everyday life. Ben's heart-smile spread to his face and filled the air around him with an energy of pure joy. Looking up at the opened window, he caught a brief glimpse of Adam's smile as he closed the pane and backed away from view. Lost in this feeling of bliss, Ben was startled when he heard Hoss's voice.

"He's getting' better, ain't he?"

Ben clutched Hoss's broad shoulder. "Yes, Hoss. He's getting better."


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"I'll need two yards, please, and one small spool of thread," Miss Kinkead said, smiling at the elderly shopkeeper.

"Oh, my dear, this color will look lovely on you!" Mrs. Anson said. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"No, ma'am," Miss Kinkead replied, "just the fabric."

Mrs. Anson stretched the fabric against the measuring string as Miss Kinkead waited patiently. Once the length was cut, the two women opened the fabric and, together, folded it neatly into a rectangle.

"I haven't seen you here in the store before," Mrs. Anson said. "Are you new in town?"

Miss Kinkead reached inside her pouch for the coins needed to meet her bill. "I am, Mrs. Anson," she replied, "and I am looking forward to settling here if I'm able to obtain employment."

Mrs. Anson shook her head. "Oh, my dear, I do hope you won't be disappointed," she said. "There aren't many positions to be found in Virginia City these days."

"I understand. I do have hope, though, Mrs. Anson," Miss Kinkead assured as she handed the shopkeeper the several coins, gathered her package and nodded her thanks.

As she strolled down the street, Miss Kinkead saw Ed Ferguson coming down the sidewalk waving a small piece of paper.

"Miss! Miss, I was just on my way to the boarding house!" he said, his breath coming in short spurts. "This telegram arrived just a few minutes ago."

"Why, thank you, Mister . . ."

"Ferguson, miss. Ed Ferguson. And you're quite welcome," he answered, his face blushing as he handed her the paper. "Will there be a reply, miss?"

"No, I'm sure there will not be a reply, Mr. Ferguson, and thank you."

"You're quite welcome, miss."

It wasn't until she'd reached the front porch of the boarding house that Miss Kinkead opened the telegram. As she opened the folded paper, she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. The first line of the note brought a smile to her face and after she'd read it through twice, she refolded the message and tucked it safely inside her bag. She smoothed the front of her dress and removed her bonnet before entering the boarding house. The silence concerned her, knowing that as well-mannered as the children were, they could present challenges to a woman of Mrs. Brighton's years. She climbed the stairs, the steps creaking in the stillness, turned the corner at the top of the staircase and peered into the bedroom she shared with Danny and Mary.

She was so taken by the scene that she collapsed against the doorframe and slapped her hand across her mouth to contain her laughter. Seated on the floor of the bedroom was Mrs. Brighton, wearing multiple necklaces, a rather large daisy extending from a buttonhole in her blouse and two remarkable hats on her head. Standing next to her was Mary, balancing precariously in a pair of women's buttoned shoes and wearing one of Mrs. Brighton's kitchen aprons tied fancifully around the bodice of her dress. Next to her was Danny, wearing a pocket watch that hung loosely from his shirt pocket and, although the size was proportionately off, the young boy sported a man's bow tie. "Must have belonged to Mr. Brighton_," _Miss Kinkead thought sadly. She hesitated there against the wall, listening to the giggles and watching Mary 'pour tea' into the small cups while Danny spoke of the 'ranch chores' he'd done that day. "Mrs. Brighton should have had children," she thought. "So many deserving men and women spend their lives without the joys those little souls have given me.

As the tea party continued, Miss Kinkead made her way back downstairs and into the kitchen, holding inside the tears that threatened to surface and the sadness that she carried with her always.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Mornin', Aunt Mazie!"

"Land sakes child," Mazie exclaimed, grasping her chest in exaggerated surprise. "You scared ten years onto my age!"

"Sorry, Aunt Mazie!" Carrie said as she lifted a fold of fabric to examine its suitability. "What do you think of this color? I need a new dress for the big dance next month. It is only three weeks away! The shade flatters my eyes, don't you think?"

"Darlin', with that smile and those curves, a flour sack would flatter your eyes!"

"Aunt Mazie! Really! Discussing my curves in a public establishment!" Carrie whispered, feigning embarrassment as the women giggled. "What brings you into the store this morning?"

"Oh, just a few things I need. Nothing as exciting as fabric for a new dress! Oh, I almost forgot. Wait right here, Carrie. There's someone I want you to meet." And with that, Mazie hurried out the door and into the neighboring storefront. When she returned, she had a lovely young woman with her. "Carrie, I'd like you to meet Miss Kinkead, Miss Kinkead, this is Carrie Baker."

Carrie was taken by the young woman's natural beauty. So much so that she felt a twinge of jealousy gnarling inside her, until she looked into her eyes. There she saw sincerity, kindness and the deepest sadness she'd ever seen. Carrie's heart warmed to the stranger more quickly than anyone she'd ever met before.

"Very nice to meet you, Carrie. I understand you've already met Danny and Mary. They've spoken fondly of your visit with them," Miss Kinkead said as she took Carrie's gloved hand in hers.

Carrie smiled, "Those two are the best-behaved children I've ever met! You must be so proud of them."

"Thank you. I am . . ."

Their meeting was interrupted by a disturbance in the street just outside the store. A brawl involving some miners who'd had occasion to spend too much time and money in the saloon drew the attention of everyone in the store. Dust flew in large puffs as one man landed on the street grasping his jaw and kicking to regain his footing. Another man sailed past the barrels stacked along the walkway only to land on a seamstress-form adorned in a lovely, blue dress.

"If you'll excuse me, Miss Kinkead, Aunt Mazie. I'd best head over to Doc Martin's and let him know his services will be needed! It was indeed a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kinkead," Carrie said as another man fell to the ground with a thud. "I hope to see you and the children again very soon!"

All three women sidestepped yet another brawler as he staggered past them, coming to rest atop a stack of flour sacks. Before Miss Kinkead could respond, Carrie was off and rushing down the sidewalk toward the doctor's office.

"Carrie helps Doc Martin whenever she can," Mrs. Brighton explained. "She isn't a nurse, officially, but she did have some training at college back east."

Before they could return to the store, Sheriff Coffee arrived with his deputy to put an end to the show taking place in the street.

"Well, we'd best get back to our shopping. I'll be purchasing a small amount of candies for Emma to add to her payment for keeping an eye on Danny and Mary this morning. May I also get some for the children?" Mrs. Brighton asked.

"That would be lovely, Mrs. Brighton, but they will have to wait until after lunch to have them."

"Of course, my dear. After lunch!"


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A warm, late afternoon breeze blew loose soil across Danny's toes. His infectious giggle filled the air as Mary dumped another handful of the earth atop his foot. Once again, the wind carried the fine dirt across Danny's toes and with it, several blades of grass and three small leaves. Mary turned begging eyes toward Miss Kinkead and a simple nod of her head gave Mary permission to remove her stockings so she could feel the coolness of the soil against her skin as well. With the children happily entertaining themselves, Miss Kinkead was free to continue working on her small garden behind the boarding house. Mrs. Brighton had given her permission to plant a small patch because, as she had explained, it would not only provide Mrs. Brighton and her tenants with flowers, but would serve as an educational experience for the children.

At the front of her boarding house, Mrs. Brighton was busy filling her spare moments with her favorite pastime: knitting. As she rocked in the balmy, gentle wind, her concentration was disrupted by the approach of a tall man sauntering down the path toward her porch.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Brighton. My, don't you look lovely this afternoon!"

Mrs. Brighton's cheeks turned a shade of pink that closely matched the yarn she was using. That shade intensified to a worried, red hue when Mrs. Brighton recognized the caller. "Why, Stuart Weaver, what brings the likes of you to this side of town?"

Stu clenched his jaw at the insult. He recognized the contempt shared by the majority of the citizens of Virginia City. His opinion of himself, unfortunately, differed greatly. He was not about to let the likes of Mazie Brighton prevent him from imposing himself on a sweet, young thing. "Mrs. Brighton, ma'am," Stu spat through clenched teeth, "I was looking for a young lady who is one of your tenants. A Miss Kinkead," Stu said, hoping to introduce himself to the lovely woman from the café.

"I was not aware that you and Miss Kinkead were acquainted, Mr. Weaver," she stated, her protective nature drawing an invisible line or warning.

_Maybe that's because it's none of your business who I'm acquainted with! And brats or no brats, I wouldn't want a pretty filly like her to suffer the trauma of not getting to know me better. Much, much better!_

"We shared a meal-time at the café several days ago, and I wanted to request her permission to come calling sometime in the near future," Stu replied, hoping the so-called 'shared meal' wouldn't come up again.

_After all, eating in the same restaurant IS sharing a meal-time, isn't it? And besides, old Mrs. Anson at the General Store was more than happy to tell me her name._

Mrs. Brighton's icy gaze made Stu squirm, but he stared her down with his fake smile just long enough for her to give in.

"I'll see if she's in and if she is, I'll inquire as to whether or not she is accepting visitors."

She plopped her knitting on the rocker and disappeared inside just as Stu heard the sound of children's laughter coming from the back yard.

Ignoring the courtesy of being invited, he slithered along the side of the building, stepping heavily atop Mrs. Brighton's daisies and lavender. Without being seen, he was able to hear Miss Kinkead and Mrs. Brighton's exchange.

"Absolutely not!" Miss Kinkead whispered. "I don't know anyone named Stewart Weaver! I don't know any men in this town. Please ask him to leave, Mrs. Brighton."

"It will be my pleasure!" Mrs. Brighton chimed.

The back door slammed shut and Stu was faced with a decision: rushing back to the front of the house to deal with the high and mighty Mazie Brighton or eavesdropping a bit on the young woman and her children. True to nature, Stu decided to stay put.

"Mr. Weaver? Now, where did that poor excuse for a man go?" Mrs. Brighton, standing with her hands on her hips paced the front porch. "Of all the . . . What a rude young man!"

Luckily, Stu was trying so hard to hear the conversation in the back yard that he didn't hear Mrs. Brighton's ranting. What he did hear however, peaked his curiosity ten-fold.

"Miss Mercy?" Danny asked. "You said the flowers we plant today are gonna be real nice and pretty for a while, then die, right?"

_Mercy Kinkead. Mercy? An odd name. Where have I heard that before?_

"That's right, Danny," Mercy said as she handed Mary another handful of seeds. "We bury the seeds in the dirt and they grow and become beautiful living things. Then they need to rest a while, so they die off for the cold, winter months. Then in the spring, when the air warms and the sun shines, they'll come back to life and start to grow all over again."

"You mean they'll be like little baby flowers in the spring?" Danny asked as he poked then shooed a fat, long worm.

"That's right," Mercy answered. "And they'll grow big and tall all over again, as long as you remember to take care of them. That's a very important responsibility. After they die, you must take care of them if you want them to come back."

Danny cradled a handful of loose dirt in his tiny hands then watched as it sifted through his fingers and covered the tiny seeds. Mary copied what her big brother had done, adding another, thinner layer of soil to the spot. Mercy and Mary slid to the left and Mary waited patiently as Mercy dug the next hole. Danny stared at their last spot, his brows furrowing.

"Danny, hand me the bag of seeds, please." Mercy held out her hand to the emptiness of space as Danny continued to stare at the ground in front of his knees. "Danny?"

Bored with the unfolding scene, Stu, still hiding in the shadows, rolled his eyes.

_Like I said, what a waste! Destined to spend the rest of her life with children and dirt and worms! It's a real shame some man didn't git hold of her before those kids came along. A smart man would've put any notion of little brats outta her head. A good slap or two woulda done the trick._

Stu clenched his fists at his sides.

"Danny? Did you hear me ask for the seeds?" Mercy repeated.

"Yes, Miss Mercy," Danny said and reached for the bag. "I'm sorry."

"That's all right, Danny." Mercy looked into the boy's face and knew his mind was off and running.

_Why do I recognize that name?_

"So, it's our fault," Danny whispered, still concentrating on the same spot.

"What's our fault?" Mercy asked.

Danny lowered his head, his strikingly blue eyes looking upward at Mercy. "You said that after the house burned down, when all the pieces that were left fell, everything in there was buried. Even . . ."

Mercy's eyes grew bigger, her heart aching from the knowledge that the terrible incident back in Canada was still weighing so heavily on Danny's mind.

"So, it's our fault that Mr. Adam didn't start to grow again 'cause we ain't . . . I mean, we aren't there to take care of him," Danny cried. "It was our sponsility."

"We gotta go back!" Mary whimpered. "I miss Mr. Adam."

_ADAM? THAT'S IT! Mercy is the name of the woman who died in the fire! The fire that shoved Adam Cartwright off his rocker . . . She's here. Alive. And those brats! I remember hearing . . . There were three children, burned alive right along with . . . How in blazes did they . . ._

Mercy scooped the children into her arms and onto her lap, their dirty little hands clinging to her neck and face. She heard their sobs and felt the warmth of their tears against her neck and shoulders. Her eyes clouded as her own tears fell, sliding quickly down her face and dropping to the soil in front of her. Each one left a temporary, perfect stain in the dirt, then immediately dried away in the heat of the sun, leaving no physical trace behind. "Oh, Danny!" she said. "I'm so sorry! I guess over the past few months, I haven't explained things very well . . ."

"Please, Miss Mercy," Danny cried, "AnnaLynn's telegam said she's gonna get here soon, and when she does, I wanna go back and help Mr. Adam grow!"

"And I wanna help too!" Mary sobbed.

Mercy found herself at a loss to comfort her children. Her own sadness rose from the depths yet untouched by the passage of time. Sitting in the midst of the freshly tilled garden, she rocked back and forth as Danny and Mary clung to her. Her mind raced with thoughts of how to help these tiny souls comprehend and accept the senseless death that she herself had yet to fathom.

Stunned, Stu plodded recklessly through the side garden, then sneaked behind the bushes and out of sight of the Brighton Boarding House. Out of breath, his mind racing with scandalous information and unconfirmed scenarios, he slowed and walked the remainder of the street and into his small, three-room home on Third Street.

_Adam. 'Mr. Adam'. A fire. It can't be! Can it? No. Can't be. It was somewhere up north, Canada, I recall. And a woman and three children burned in the fire. Died right there. And Adam Cartwright survived._

Stu sat heavily on his settee, leaning his elbows on his thighs, his head held in his hands.

_She has two children with her, not three. But it sounds like there's another one comin'. And how could Adam think them dead while all along they are sure he's the one who . . ._

Stu jumped up and grabbed a glass and a half-empty bottle of whiskey from a shelf. He filled the glass and stood gazing out the dirty window into the street, staring as people went about their chores and errands as if nothing had changed. But something had changed. He emptied the glass in one short attempt and filled it again and again.

_Well, well, Stu. What do I do with this information? How do I use it to my best advantage?_

Stu sat heavily into his chair, propped his feet atop the ottoman and filled his glass. He leaned back and closed his eyes, assessing what he's seen and heard. The alcohol slowed his thinking and clouded his memories. He bolted upright and clamped his eyes tightly shut as his father's voice echoed in his mind.

_"__So Stuey," _his father whined, _"once again, good fortune has fallen into your worthless lap! Maybe this time you won't be the jackass we all know you are and you'll find a way to turn what I'm sure the good folks of Virginia City will call a miracle into something profitable for yourself! But we all know that won't happen, because just like that useless mother of yours, you're an insignificant waste of life, Stu Weaver!"_

Stu opened his eyes and saw his father's face just as he remembered it, unshaven, dirty and covered in alcohol sweat. He heaved the empty whiskey bottle across the room, smashing it against the image of his dead father's face.

_I'll show you! I'll find a way to ruin the Cartwrights, just like you always wanted, Papa. And I'll start with something that'll put Adam Cartwright into a loony bin for the rest of his days. Old Ben won't be able to survive something like that . . . I'll destroy fat ole Hoss and baby Joe right along with them! And while I'm at it, I'll take care of that high and mighty Carrie Baker._


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

For two days, Stu digested the information he'd overheard while eavesdropping on Mercy and the children. In that time, he'd contrived several scenarios, none of which pleased him more than the one he'd finally settled upon.

He made his way along the sidewalks of Virginia City, annoyed by the intensity of the morning sun and irritated by the perkiness of the people as they greeted each other in passing. Though it had been quite a struggle, Stu had managed to refrain from drinking over the past two days, the objective of his latest plot holding greater importance than his craving for a good drink. He stopped, leaning against the side wall of the Virginia City jail. He produced a shiny, silver pocket watch from his vest pocket, sprung loose the clasp, and checked the time. With several minutes of idle time on his hands, Stu relaxed heavily against the brick, laughing at the irony of the building he'd chosen. He ran his thumb across the engraved surface of the watch he'd stolen at the young age of nine. His eyes glazed over, entranced in the memories of that day, clear in his mind as if it were yesterday.

"Weaver! What are you doin' hangin' around out here?" Sheriff Coffee bellowed.

Startled, Stu shoved the watch into his pocket as he struggled to keep the guilt of a nine-year-old child from creeping across his face. "'S there a law against standing on a public street, Sheriff?" Stu spat.

"Ain't no such law, Weaver, but where you're concerned, I can't be too careful!" Roy said. "So move along 'n' take your troubles elsewhere!" Roy waited patiently, lifting his shoulders in authority as Stu refused to budge.

Stu turned his head from Roy and spat into the alley, looked into Roy's eyes, sniggered, and started on down the street.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_That boy is gonna meet up with his Maker real soon._

Peering through the large, dusty picture window of Café Rosa, Stu nodded with delight at the view. Inside, seated at their usual table, were Carrie Baker and her cousin Alyssa Tramor, sharing their monthly lunch-date. He considered their behavior, unable to hear the animated conversation.

_So predictable! That's it, Carrie. Enjoy your little gossip moment with that twit cousin of yours. We'll see how much you smile when I pass along a little gossip of my own._

Looking up from her work, Liza, a waitress at Café Rosa, sighed at the sight of Stu Weaver entering the restaurant.

"May I show you to a table, sir?" she asked.

"Well, aren't you looking fetching this afternoon, Liza," Stu whispered as he grabbed her waist and pulled her close.

Liza glared up at Stu. "My pa warned you to never touch me again! Now get your hands off me!"

Stu yanked her closer with a snarl on his face. As he released her, he grinned. "Another time, Liza, darlin'. I have better prospects today." He pushed her aside and with a crunching sound, leaned his head to the left, cracking the bones in his neck. Purposefully, Stu made his way to the table shared by the unsuspecting women.

"Oh, brother!" Alyssa whispered as she watched Stu's approach.

Carrie turned, her back having been toward the café's entrance. "I swear, if that man . . ."

Stu snatched an empty chair and straddled it backwards before Carrie could finish. "Well, hello, ladies!" he said, his voice oozing with bogus excitement. "It certainly is a pleasure to run into you today!"

"Go away, Stu," Carrie demanded. "We're having a private meal."

_A private meal that is about to be ruined! _

"You are rather impolite, aren't you Carrie," Stu said, spitting out her name with contempt as his hand automatically balled into a fist. "I must say, I don't see what any man in their right mind sees in you."

"Stu, that's enough!" Alyssa chided. "Get lost!"

Stu slammed his hand against the back of the chair. Alyssa and Carrie flinched. "Don't you tell me what to do! You're no better than her! You both deserve whatever comes your way!"

Seeing the fear in her younger cousin's eyes, Carrie made the decision to end Stu's onslaught. "All right, Stu. That's enough," she insisted. "Go find someone else to bother."

_That's an opening if ever I heard one!_

"I am through wasting my time on the likes of you," Stu confessed. "I've got my sights set on a much prettier young thing. Just arrived in town a few days ago and from what I've seen, she's a lot friendlier than the likes of you two, if you know what I mean."

"You are disgusting, Stu Weaver!" Alyssa scolded.

"Who is this new lady in town, Stu?" Carrie laughed. "Alyssa and I will welcome her to town and we'll be sure to tell her all about you!"

_This is just too easy!_

"You do that!" Stu said. "And once I get to her, I'll show her what a real man is capable of!"

Carrie shook her head, disgusted with Stu and the entire encounter.

"As a matter of fact, I'm heading to see her right now," Stu announced, his ego puffing his chest and intensifying his dark eyes. "Heading right over to Mrs. Brighton's boarding house to call on the lovely Miss Kinkead."

Alyssa and Carrie glared at Stu.

"Are you out of your mind?" Carrie yelled, attracting the attention of several other guests in the café.

_Interesting choice of words, Carrie darlin'!_

Carrie shook her head. "A woman like Miss Kinkead wouldn't give you the time of day!"

"Well, we'll just see now, won't we!" Stu crowed as he raised himself slowly from the chair and pounded a fist on the table. "I plan on showin' Miss Mercy Kinkead a real fine time in all the places in Virginia City. Especially, my place!"

Carrie's eyes peered after Stu as he left the café. The sounds around her pounded in her ears, her face clouding over, pale grey in hue.

"Carr?" Alyssa whispered.

_No. It can't be . . . ._

"Carr!" Alyssa said. "What is it?"

_Miss Kinkead. Aunt Mazie said her name was Miss Kinkead. She never said . . ._

Alyssa grabbed Carrie by her wrist. "Carr! You're scaring me!"

_She never said her first name. And Adam . . . never said her last name. But when he said 'Mercy', his heart collapsed right in front of me._

"Dadburnit, Carrie!" Alyssa called. "What's going on? What did that jackass say that has you so upset?"

_Dead. She's dead. And the children . . . It's not possible!_

Alyssa jostled Carrie's arm. "Carrie Baker, if you don't say something, I'm gonna go get Doc Martin!"

"Mercy," Carrie whispered.

"What?" Alyssa asked.

"Her name." Carrie said softly. "Her name was Mercy."

"Whose name was . . . Oh!" Alyssa shouted. She slid her chair closer to Carrie's and whispered, "Adam's . . . I mean, she died in the fire! Didn't she?"

Carrie raised her head, her eyes piercing into Alyssa's. "Adam made it out of that fire. And no one knew he escaped," Carrie said, a part of her struggling to control laughter in the face of the unbelievably miraculous nature of Adam's fate.

Alyssa grasped Carrie's hand tightly. "Carrie, are you saying that Mercy and the children could have survived too?"

Shocked, the young women sat for several minutes in a silence that rang stridently in their ears.

"We have to find out, Lyssa," Carrie murmured. "If there's any chance . . . Adam must know."


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Stu Weaver knelt beside the hitching post as he retrieved the meager winnings he'd dropped just moments before. Once he'd dropped his explosive information into the laps of Carrie and Alyssa, he'd beat a path to the nearest saloon to celebrate. Two whiskies later, he lumbered through the grimy saloon doors and set out for home.

_I wonder how long it'll be before the fun begins? I know women, and those two won't be able to keep their traps shut for long._

Stu chuckled at his version of the impending future. With an unsettling spring in his step, he turned the corner toward his house. His mood sparked when he spotted Joe and Ben Cartwright walking side by side across the street. The regal purpose with which they strode along heightened Stu's animosity, a reminder that, as usual, he had no place in particular that he needed to be.

_I wonder what would happen if I ran over there and told Daddy and Baby Joe all about the strangers in town!_

His loathsome gaze tracked their destinations, and he grunted in disgust when Joe turned into the Virginia City Trust and Loan.

_He's probably depositing another small fortune._

Ben continued on to the courthouse, and Stu leaned back against the post as he wondered what important business the illustrious Mr. Cartwright had in store that morning.

_As much as I'd relish blowing their little world to bits with the lies their perfect Adam told about some woman and children perishing in a fire, I'll leave that little tale alone, for now, to cause sleepless nights for Miss Too-Good-For-Stu-Weaver Baker!_

A grin worthy of Satan crept across his face. Discontented with the thought of sitting alone in his room, Stu took the alley-way shortcut toward Café Rosa.

_Maybe Liza's still working. That spunky little gal needs to be tamed, and I am just the man to do it!_

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

With his banking complete, Joe made his way down the bustling main street of Virginia City, tipping his hat so frequently to the many acquaintances he passed that he considered removing it altogether. Once he arrived at the café, Joe scanned the patrons in search of his father.

_Hmmf. Looks like I'm the first one here._

As he weaved his way to a table, he ignored Stu's glaring stare. He seated himself facing the door and ordered two cups of coffee as he waited for his father to join him for breakfast.

"There goes my digestion!" Stu mumbled quietly at his table on the opposite side of the room as he watched Joe's playful interaction with Liza. When Ben entered, Stu couldn't help but react with another comment meant for his ears only, "Damned Cartwrights are everywhere." As always, Stu's hatred of anything or anyone Cartwright was overpowered by his constant desire for gossip and eavesdropping. He managed to nurse several cups of coffee as he watched Ben and Joe enjoying a hearty conversation along with their meal. Stu's only regret was that he could only read some of Joe's words from across the room and with Ben's back toward him, Stu could only guess at the elder Cartwright's remarks. He did manage to make out something about the school in town, Hoss's date for the evening, and a large transaction at the bank that involved the selling of timber. "Oh, yes," Stu thought, "and you might want to sit for a chat with your lying son or maybe, better yet, beat the truth outta him!" When the conversation at the Cartwrights' table began to bore him, Stu called Liza to his table to pay his bill.

Liza waited as Stu pulled coins from his pocket. He held them out to her, daring her to reach for them, and when she did, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. "You don't make much working here, do you Liza?"

"I make enough," she spat, yanking her hand free of Stu's. "And I don't like what you're implying!"

Joe was on his feet, Liza's father stepped out from the kitchen, and Ben swung around in his chair.

"Leave her alone, Weaver," Joe commanded.

Stu's nostrils flared and his fists itched in anticipation of smashing against Joe's face. _Another time, Baby Joe. Another time! You've got a bigger shock in store than my fist messing up that pretty-boy face of yours!_ "Why, I wasn't implying anything!" Stu claimed. "Just making sure to compensate the young lady for her exemplary service." Stu glared at Joe, dropped the coins into Liza's hand, stood with a nod, and left the café.

Liza reassured her father with a smile before turning to thank Joe and Ben.

After settling their check, Ben and Joe strolled out of the café and stopped on the walkway to chat with several men from the town council.

"I know we just had that short meeting this morning, Ben," Henry Penfield said, "but have you thought of anything? We owe it to the children of Virginia City to settle this as soon as possible."

"Henry, I haven't come up with anything just yet. I'm sure with all of us working on ideas, we'll come up with an advertisement that will garner us a fine new teacher in time for the start of the school term," Ben assured.

Pretending to be engaged by the councilmen's discussion but focusing on a group of friends across the street, Joe didn't notice the young boy at his feet. After a few seconds of trying to get Joe's attention using his 'polite voice', the young boy resorted to another tactic.

"Excuse me, mister," he said as he yanked on the bottom hem of Joe's green jacket.

Joe looked down into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. "Huh?" Joe grunted.

Without speaking another word, the young boy tilted his blonde head to the ground, staring directly at Joe's left boot. It wasn't until then that Joe realized he was standing on a piece of paper.

When the boy raised his eyes again, Joe saw how shy he was compared to the other boys in town. Shy and, almost, frightened. "Oh, hey, I'm sorry! Is this yours?" Joe asked as he bent down and lifted the paper as he crouched next to the child.

A simple shake of his head was the only response from the boy.

Turning the paper right-side-up, Joe saw a pencil drawing of what appeared to be a man, a woman, and three children standing outside of an impressively large home. The man in the drawing carried a tool of some kind in one hand and held the woman's hand with the other. His fingers reminded Joe of fat, juicy sausages and the tool's proportions were so large that it would have taken a man with twice the strength of Hoss to wield it properly. The woman's smile extended from one side of her head to the other, dwarfing her other facial features. The children also wore smiles and judging by their clothing, there were two girls and one boy. One girl was obviously meant to be older and Joe winked at the drawing when he noted the slight curves the artist had given her. The boy seemed to be next in age and his fingers were laced together with those of the last child, a very small girl. Closer observation revealed tiny, smiling faces in every window of the two-story house.

"Huh . . . must be a school," Joe thought.

The youngster stood patiently, waiting for the return of the paper.

"Did you draw this?" Joe asked.

Again, a simple nod of his head was the response from the boy.

"It's very good. Here ya go. I don't think it even got dirty, but you'd better hang onto it so you don't lose it again," Joe said as he handed the paper to the boy.

"Thank you, mister," the boy said before running back into the store, stopping once to look back over his shoulder.

Ben waved Joe onward as he finished his conversation with the other members of the council.

"Who was that little kid? I don't think I've seen him in town before," Joe asked as they walked down the main street, the morning sun shining against their backs.

"Huh?" Ben asked. "What little kid?"

"There was a kid. Cute little guy. He ran into the store. Didn't you see him?"

"No, Joseph, I didn't see him. If I had, I wouldn't be asking 'what little kid'!" Ben replied, misdirected anger rising in his voice.

"Okay, okay. You didn't see him. Sorry!"

Ben stopped abruptly, sighing loudly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, Joe. I didn't mean to bite your head off for asking a simple question. It's this doggoned council meeting later this week." Ben's voice rose and fell with the flinging of his arms and hands as his frustrations made their way to the surface. "We still don't have any applicants for the teaching position we've advertised for and the rest of them are looking to me to do something about it."

"What do they expect you to do?" Joe asked, knowing the answer that would come.

"I guess they expect me to be a magician and produce a teacher from thin air!" Ben shouted, dramatically waving his arms high in the air. "Do they really think I can do what no one else on the council has been able to . . ." Ben raged, stopping short as he turned and nearly collided with Joe. "Joseph! Watch where you're going!"

"Me? It was you that turned around . . ."

"Excuse me," came a lovely female voice from behind Joe, its owner almost completely hidden from view. "Did I hear you say you're looking for a teacher?"

Joe spun on his heels and stood face-to-face with a very attractive young woman.

"Yes, that is what I said, Miss . . ." Ben replied, pausing when he noticed the two young children clinging tightly to the young lady. "Oh, excuse me, Mrs . . ."

"Hey, Pa! That's the little fella I was tellin' you about!" Joe said as he reached out and mussed the boy's mop of hair.

"Oh, no, sir. It's 'miss'. Miss Kinkead, and I'm a . . ."

The introductions were interrupted by the sound of gunfire on the south side of the street. Without hesitation, the woman scooped up both children and rushed toward the safety of the store she'd just visited. Ben and Joe hurried the opposite way, directly into the mayhem of the robbery of the Virginia City Bank and Trust.


	19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

As they approached the unfolding scene, Ben spotted Roy Coffee and his deputy crouched safely behind the staircase outside of Doctor Martin's office. With the right side of the street covered, Ben and Joe, using barrels and doorways as cover, made their way further along the left sidewalk. The stillness was disconcerting. Citizens fled inside and most businesses had closed their doors.

The serenity of the peaceful street gave way to Ben's pounding heartbeat. One glance at Joe caused a flood of emotion. He knew the young man could handle himself in this situation, but he feared for the safety of Joe foremost.

The pretense of tranquility following the gunfire did not fool the lawmen or the Cartwrights. All four were painfully aware that the façade ended in the street, a stark contrast to the chaos they knew was afoot inside the bank.

Ben had been in enough posses and spent enough time in conversation with Roy that he knew the longer the bank was quiet, the more chance there was of further gun play. Even without looking, he knew Joe was itching to spring into motion. Ben made eye-contact with Sheriff Coffee on the other side of the street, but the decision of what to do next was made for them when a round of gun fire rang off inside the bank. Ben and Joe, Roy and Deputy Clem all charged closer. Before any of them could steel themselves safely, the bank door burst open and three terrified women ran from the building.

More gun shots were fired inside, followed by several more people running for their lives. Ben observed that none of the people appeared to be injured and immediately, his mind went to those he knew would have been working in the bank that day. Roy and Clem straightened and made for the opened bank door. Ben and Joe followed, pistols drawn and eyes on the alert. Once all four stood at the doorway, Roy let Ben and Joe know that word had gotten to him that the only ones left in the bank were the robbers and the two tellers who had been injured. Leading the way, Roy stormed the bank with the others close at his feet. Shots rang through the room and echoed into the quiet street. When the silence returned, Roy scanned the large room. The robbers were dead, one teller had a flesh wound, and the other had been shot in the leg. As he turned to face the doorway, Clem watched as Roy's eyes opened wide and his face turned ashen-grey. Joe knelt next to his fallen father. Ben Cartwright had been shot.


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

As Joe and Clem tended to Ben, Roy enlisted the help of several men to remove the bodies of the would-be bank robbers. When Dr. Martin arrived, both of the bruised tellers waved him toward the more severely injured Ben Cartwright. As the tellers gave detailed accounts of the event, Roy kept one eye trained on Paul as he examined their longtime friend. Instructions rolled off the doctor's tongue and Roy proudly watched the people of his town spring into action. One man left for the Ponderosa with orders to bring Hoss and Adam to town. Another ran to the livery where he was to hitch up a buckboard to carry Ben the distance from the bank to Paul's office. Yet another was asked to fetch Carrie Baker and take her to the office to act as the doctor's assistant.

Seeing that Paul had control of Ben's care, Roy sent the tellers home and shifted his attention to Joe, the young man refusing to budge from his father's side. Though Ben remained unconscious, Joe continued speaking to him, willing him to breathe, softly begging him to open his eyes. Roy watched helplessly as the doctor maintained heavy pressure on the wound - a bullet imbedded in the left side of Ben's chest. He saw him reach for a fourth towel, the first three having been saturated with scarlet blood. Roy knelt next to Joe and shivered at the intensity of Joe's eyes as the young man watched his father's face.

_Hang on, boy. Your brothers'll be here soon._

As they listened for the sounds of the buckboard, the silence was broken only by Joe whispering encouragement to his pa. Kneeling in the center of the quiet room, he seemed small and isolated from reality, and Roy had to stand and look away, his heart filled with anger and fear.

The anxious citizens of Virginia City slowly returned to the sidewalks and streets where the story of Ben's shooting spread like a summer wildfire. They watched as the draped remains of the robbers were carried from the bank, and rumors of the identities of the dead and the conditions of the injured echoed through the streets, rumbling low and ebbing higher like a mid-afternoon thunder storm across the prairie.

Silence fell on the street as Joe and Clem transferred Ben's limp body from the bank and placed it like delicate glass gently into the buckboard. They looked on as Joe, his face drawn and pale, his hair hanging loosely against his furrowed brow, climbed in beside Ben and clutched his father's hand as Clem drove the buckboard the short distance to Doc Martin's office. They saw Carrie Baker bolting down the street, pushing her way through the gathering crowd and into the physician's office. Twenty minutes later, a few were close enough to see Hoss and Adam burst into town at a full gallop, dismounting before their horses could slow their gaits, a trail of dust eerily clouding their path.

The several men waiting for word outside of the office soon grew to a small crowd. Even those who had never met Ben or his sons delayed their errands and business to stand along the sidewalks in a vigil of concern. One of those lingering for news was Miss Kinkead. The young boy and little girl sat at her feet happily drawing letters with sticks in the dirt that covered the main street in Virginia City. She'd recognized Joe as he helped carry the older man from the bank and she knew that the man who'd been shot must be his father – she remembered him calling the handsome older man 'Pa'. She looked down at the children just as the boy demonstrated for the girl how to draw the letter C. Miss Kinkead smiled at the patience the boy had with his little sister, recalling the many times he'd told her that his sister was his 'appremice' and that he would teach her everything he knew.

"Is there any word yet?" Stu Weaver asked of no one in particular.

"Not yet, Stu," replied the shopkeeper. "It hasn't been long."

"How'd they manage to get themselves involved in a shoot-out bank robbery, anyway?" Stu whined to no one in particular, amused by the presence of Mercy and the children.

"Not sure," whispered the man standing next to Stu. "Keep yer voice down, Stu. Ain't no need ta frighten the children! All I know is I was just talking with Ben about the need for a new teacher and now this . . ."

Stu huffed at the old man, and then walked closer to the shopkeeper standing patiently in the street. "Well, if ya ask me, it's just like them to stick their noses in where they aren't supposed to be!" Stu argued.

The two men stepped back a bit, making more room for several squeaking, thumping buckboards to pass. Miss Kinkead gathered the children and stepped closer to the storefront as the noisy wagons passed.

"Are you sayin' Mr. Cartwright deserved to get shot?" the shopkeeper asked, his voice overflowing with disbelief.

"What if I am!" Stu yelled, his raised voice frightening the children at Miss Kinkead's feet.

"Why you sorry excuse for a jackass!" the shopkeeper screamed, then quickly looked from Stu to the children and back up at Miss Kinkead. "Sorry, ma'am," he apologized.

"That's quite all right," she replied. "He is exactly the jackass that you described! Come on children. It's time we were heading back to the boarding house."

Stu bristled._ We'll see who's the jackass real soon, Mercy Kinkead. Real soon . . ._

Miss Kinkead reached for the childrens' tiny hands and herded them down the sidewalk and across the street as quickly as she was able, leaving several giggling people glaring at Stu on the sidewalk behind.

"That woman is gonna find herself an old maid with that mouth of hers!" Stu mumbled as he walked off in the opposite direction. _An old maid with brats and a man she once loved locked up in a mental hospital!_

Silence fell over the gathering crowd. The shopkeeper spoke up, saying aloud what everyone there was thinking.

"Ben Cartwright just has to be okay. He just got Adam back, and those boys can't lose their father now."


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Adam, Hoss, and Joe had inherited many of Ben Cartwright's traits. Impatience was one of them.

"Shouldn't we know something by now?" Joe whispered, tension wavering in his voice.

"It hasn't been that long," Hoss replied as he paced the short distance from the entrance of Doctor Martin's office to the examination room door and back.

The rhythm of his footsteps, heavy and plodding, accompanied Joe's quick, shallow breathing in a bizarre sort of harmony that ticked the seconds into minutes.

With his elbows resting on his knees and his chin propped in his hands, Adam continued to stare forward, aware of the discussion around him, but too deeply lost in thought to respond. Nothing could be said; nothing could be done. He knew the prognosis would come and until then, he would continue his silent vigil of prayer, hope and life-choking fear.

All three men startled when the door to the office swung open. Sheriff Roy Coffee stepped inside, his mouth open, ready to ask for an update. The tangible thickness of the air in the room told him there was no news as of yet. Without a word, he joined the Cartwright brothers in their silent watch, until . . .

"Carrie! I need more towels!"

The raised voice of Paul Martin carried into the waiting area, jolting everyone in the room to their feet.

The closed door to the examination room seemed to take on a life of its own. Four pairs of eyes stared at it, willing it to open, pleading with it to be the gateway to good news or remain forever closed, trapping devastating details on the other side. The solid, pine wood appeared to breathe, synchronizing the breath of everyone anxiously waiting for something, anything, to happen. Whatever sounds, whatever actions were taking place on the other side were absorbed into the wood, protecting those straining to eavesdrop. The sturdy metal hinges and deadlock looked as if they were expanding, strengthening and tightening, threatening to allow no one entrance into the foreboding room.

"Something's wrong!" Joe said, panic in his voice as it cracked and strained just the way it had when he was a frightened, little child. "Why else would the doc have yelled at Carrie like that?"

His body leaned forward as if a magnet were pulling him toward the door. He wanted so badly to burst into the room, sure that his mere presence would alter the outcome in some positive way. Seeing Joe's posture, Hoss and Adam both stepped toward Joe, facing their little brother like a protective wall of hope.

Roy watched from across the way. Joe looked ready to explode. Adam and Hoss stood fixed, ready to prevent just that, but more so, they were prepared to comfort their brother. He saw the body language of the three men change in the silence from tense to empathetic, their eyes from determined to supportive. As had happened so many times before, Roy witnessed the strength, control and love shared by Ben Cartwright's sons, and he prayed that the man who'd instilled those qualities in the three young men would call upon the same to pull himself through.

After what seemed like hours but in reality was a short thirty minutes, the door to the examination room creaked open slowly. Paul stepped into the waiting area, his downcast eyes revealing the already-assumed severity of Ben's condition. His eyes connected with Adam's first.

"Paul?" Adam said, the single word draining his lungs of every bit of air.

"We almost lost him. And we may still. His condition is grave. In fact, if it were just about any other man, he wouldn't . . ." Paul cleared his throat and, taking a page from Ben's familiar stature, stood taller and straighter to emphasize his next points. "Ben's a stubborn man. Strong and determined. He's fighting hard." He softened his professional tone and continued, "I wish the news was better. The next twenty-four hours will tell."


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Paul returned to Ben's side, relieving Carrie, who could now comfort her long-time friends. She checked over her attire, and once assured that no traces of anything unpleasant were visible, she smoothed her dress and allowed herself a quick glance in the brand new mirror hanging on the back of the door. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the door and greeted the Cartwright brothers and Sheriff Coffee.

"Carrie," Adam said, "how is he? . . . Really?"

She reached for him, holding him tightly for several precious seconds, a flood of thoughts invading her mind. _Mercy should be here, holding him, comforting him._ Carrie took a deep breath. "He's fighting, Adam. Fighting hard! Paul's done everything and then some," she reassured. _My God, how can I tell him? If the worst were to happen . . . Can he handle another crisis. Adam might simply disappear . . . just when his family needs him most. I can't risk that, what it would do to Ben! Until he's recovered, he must come first._ Carrie inhaled deeply. "I told your pa that you're all here, waiting for him . . . that he should rest, take a little time to grow stronger . . . I think he heard me."

Hoss, hands tucked deep inside his pockets, stared at the floor. "Carrie, it means a lot knowin' you were in there with him."

She slid her arm through his and laid her head against his forearm. She knew how difficult words could be at a time like this, especially for a man with a heart bigger than himself.

"Is he hurting, Carr?" Joe asked.

She turned to the youngest of Ben's sons, still wearing the blood-soaked shirt he'd worn as he'd tended to his father at the bank. He looked so small and fragile, pain radiating from his swollen eyes. "No, Joe," she said. "Doc made sure he gave him just enough to temper any pain but allow him to wake up when he's ready."

As Joe smiled, he dropped his head, his brain registering the blood on his hands and shirt for the first time that day. His body shrunk back against the wall in revulsion at the sight. His chest heaved with every breath and he swallowed hard as bile rose in his throat.

Carrie's heart ached for him. "Come with me, Joe," Carrie insisted, taking Joe by the hand. "You can wash up and I'll find one of Doc's shirts for you to wear." Slowly, she led him past the examination room door and into Doc Martin's attached home.

Joe clenched her hand so tightly it was becoming painful. He was clearly more shaken than anyone knew. As they walked away from the others, Carrie glanced over her shoulder at Adam.

_If I could just tell him the truth. And I will. Just as soon as Ben is alright. I'll see to it that Adam has the happiness he deserves. Even if it isn't with me._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

When Carrie and Joe returned, there was a change in Joe's posture. His skin had been scrubbed and he wore a black shirt that hung loosely on his muscled frame. He sat next to Carrie on a small sofa, his face grim, his emotions at their peak.

Minutes grew into hours as the vigil continued. Someone from the International Hotel offered rooms and meals to the worried family but no one wanted to be any further from Ben than the outer room of the office. The food was appreciated, though neither enjoyed nor finished. Nearly eight hours after the shooting, daylight faded and the bustling sounds of the street outside calmed.

Roy resigned himself to the necessary task of completing the paperwork on the robbery attempt, leaving strict orders that any news be delivered immediately to his office down the street. As he made his way down the sidewalk, several citizens inquired about Ben's condition and Roy made a mental note to tell Ben and his sons just how much the people of the town cared for the Cartwright family.

The last person to ask for an update was Mrs. Brighton, owner of the small boarding house on the other side of town. "I'll be praying for him, Roy," she said as he continued down the walk. "And his boys. We all will be."


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

An orange and yellow crescent inched its way from behind the mountain. The shape expanded slowly, puffing up like a swelling lump on the peak. The sunrise in Virginia City the next morning was stunning, trying desperately to wipe away the events of the previous day, its glow coloring even the shadows along the main street of the town. The silence would soon be broken by merchants and customers alike. Aromas of freshly brewed coffee and the daily breakfast specials from the cafes and restaurants filled the air as their doors were opened to the earliest risers. Roy Coffee began his usual morning inspection by strolling the sidewalks, but this morning, his first stop would not be his usual. This morning, he headed straight for Doc Martin's office.

As he passed by the bank, a shiver ran from his head to his toes. Though Ben's shooting had left him distraught, he knew the casualties and injuries could have been far worse. The shiver ran through him yet again, and he rubbed his forearms in response. A soft, mumbling sound drew his attention, and when he looked ahead to the doc's building, he saw a small, concerned crowd gathered outside. Roy chuckled to himself, a self-reprimand for not realizing that others would be as concerned for Ben as was he. Although no news during the night might be considered good news, Roy needed to hear the latest details for himself. As they parted at his appearance, he promised the group at the foot of the stairs a report as soon as one was available. With each step toward the stoop of the office, Roy's heart anticipated what he would find behind the study oak door.

Hoss stood, leaning against a wall, his hands still jammed into his pockets, the dark circles under his Tahoe-blue eyes, telltale signs of how he'd spent the past hours. He lifted his head to greet Roy, and the brief contact shook Roy to his core.

_I've known that boy since he was a pup and never, never have I seen him so afraid._

Joe, his face drawn and pale, sat next to Carrie, his arm behind her neck, her head against his chest. The youngest Cartwright raised his eyes to Roy and parted his lips to speak, his voice stifled by emotion as his eyes welled with moisture.

Roy nodded and looked away. _Hang on, boy. Maybe, just maybe, no news is good news._

Carrie shifted and sighed as she saw Roy standing across the room. He couldn't help smiling at the sight of the beautiful young woman's silhouette, fitting so perfectly against Joe's that Roy would have been hard pressed to tell where Joe ended and Carrie began.

_There's somethin' real natural about those two holdin' on to each other that way._

Carrie noticed Roy staring and although her eyes smiled up at him, he saw that she looked especially haggard and her smiling eyes betrayed some hidden worry, especially when her gaze turned toward the eldest Cartwright son.

Adam, arms folded across his chest, stood leaning heavily against the wall. Roy could almost hear Adam's silent, internal conversation. Knowing Ben's eldest as well as he did, Roy knew that every possible scenario, and even some impossible ones, had taken their turn churning through Adam's logical mind, in an attempt to prepare himself for any outcome. But the pressure of waiting and worrying showed on Adam's face, his usually hazel eyes glassy and void of color. He'd chewed on the left side of his lower lip, a habit that Roy recalled from Adam's childhood - one that Adam had broken years ago - leaving the area swollen and slightly bruised.

_Please, Adam, stay with us. You ain't alone this time. You don't need to go lookin' for a way to deal with . . . with whatever happens._

Before Roy could offer a word of comfort, the large pine door opened and Paul came into the room. Joe and Carrie were on their feet, she with her arm wrapped securely around Joe's waist, ready to support the boy as he braced himself for whatever was to come. Hoss locked eyes with Adam, their amazing, tangible link filling the space between. Paul looked more exhausted than Roy had imagined he could. With his sleeves rolled up, his tie missing and his hair mussed, it appeared as if he'd been ministering to Ben for days instead of hours.

Adam stepped forward and breathed deeply, steeling himself for the news. "Paul?" he asked.

"I don't know how," the doctor said as he shook his head, "but he's awake. Barring infection, I think he's going to be all right."

Carrie felt Joe lean heavily against her arm before she was unexpectedly wrapped in his embrace. He was crying, and she knew it. She held him tightly, her comforting words whispered for no one else to hear as she spun the two of them around, facing Joe away from the other eyes in the room.

Hoss seemed to fold in on himself as the tension that had stretched and bound his large frame released. He took several steps toward the front door, shielding his face from his brothers. Carrie reached out one arm, grabbing Hoss's hand in hers while still clinging to Joe.

Adam exhaled deeply, rubbed his nose with his thumb and index finger and then scratched his ear before massaging his neck. He glanced at each of his brothers as they fought for composure. Carrie smiled at him from across the room. He returned her smile, dimpling as he did. Her heart reached fro him, though she stood steadfast with one brother in her arms and the other within her reach. Then Adam blinked and a single tear glistened as it trickled down his cheek. Immediately, he turned away, hiding his weakness from all eyes. Carrie was crushed.

_You really love her, Adam. I mean REALLY. She is the one. She's the one you could have run to . . . The one you could show your heart to . . . Me? I was never the one._

Carrie watched as Adam's shoulders trembled. Roy placed a comforting hand against his back and immediately, Adam swung around, his moment of weakness over and his duties as the oldest pushing him onward. He extended his hand to Paul, thanking him for all he'd done, then turned to Roy, thanking him for being with the family as they waited.

Carrie closed her eyes tightly as she clung to Joe. _Oh Adam, you are so much like your father! For once, please, just let yourself go . . . Holding everything inside . . . and with what is about to come your way. Please, Adam, please don't leave us again!_

Moments later, with strict instructions, or more accurately, threats from Paul, the Cartwrights were allowed to see their father. Carrie and Roy waited outside, where she promptly fell into Roy's arms as tears of relief and indecision ran down her face.

"Carrie, dear, you heard Paul! Ben's all right," Roy said, gently patting her back. "Everythin's gonna be alright."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_"__He looks awful pale. Can't hardly see his chest movin' up 'n' down," _Hoss thought, suddenly afraid to approach the bed.

Joe's lips trembled as he moved closer._ Paul said you're awake, but your eyes are closed. Pa, you look so small in that bed. Small and . . ._

Adam walked closer. _You're going to need a lot of care. Maybe Carrie could come to the house for a bit and help out. She loves you just about as much as you do her. It would do you good to be fussed over . . . Please, Pa, keep fighting. Joe and Hoss . . . well . . . they need . . . We need you._ Adam walked closer still, determined to keep his face free of the worry he felt.

"You may go closer. His voice will no doubt be weak for a bit. Talk to him. Let him know you're here," Paul said as he watched three grown men searched for the courage to approach their father when a sudden, unexpected voice brought a smile to Paul's face.

"It's all right, boys," Ben whispered, his fragile voice carrying a powerful resolve to each of his sons. "I'm going to be just fine."


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Out in the street, Roy delivered the news to the now larger crowd that had gathered first thing that morning. The relieved faces of the men and women warmed his heart and he trusted, as they scattered to continue on with their morning errands and tasks, that the good news would spread like wildfire through Virginia City and beyond.

An hour later, as Mrs. Brighton bounded the stairs of the porch of her boarding house, Mercy hurried outside to help with the burden she carried from her morning visit to the general store.

"Thank you, my dear. I hope you haven't been waiting long! I normally have breakfast prepared by this hour, but I wanted to linger in town until I heard some news," Mrs. Brighton said as the two women emptied the baskets onto the kitchen table.

"Was there news about the man who was . . ." Miss Kinkead looked down at the little girl next to her and chose her words carefully, "in need of help yesterday at the bank?"

"Yes! The doctor says he's going to be all right! Isn't that grand news?" Mrs. Brighton said. "He is, by far, the most generous, kind, fair-minded man in this territory and he and his boys, well, now that they're back together and things are beginning to settle, well, they don't need any more troubles, that's for sure!"

"That's wonderful news, Mrs. Brighton. Now, may I help with breakfast?" Mercy asked.

"Oh, no, my dear!" Mrs. Brighton exclaimed. "You're a tenant in this house, not an employee!"

"But I love to cook, and I haven't had the chance in quite a while," Miss Kinkead admitted as she added several cans to the pantry. "I'd consider it a favor if you'd let me help."

Mrs. Brighton looked at the young woman, her doe-shaped brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Well . . . all right. Just this once, Miss Kinkead."

"Please, Mrs. Brighton, call me 'Mercy'."

"Mercy. What an unusual name," Mrs. Brighton replied. "It means compassion, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Mercy nodded, staring into the pantry at a jar of Mrs. Brighton's homemade strawberry jam.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_Old Man Cartwright has more lives than a litter of cats! _Stu leaned over and spat into the alley._ If that bullet had come from the gun of anyone but an idiot, he'd be dead right now and crazy Prince Adam would be checking into an asylum!_

His footsteps, burdened by indecision, were heavy and drew the attention of passersby as he made his way to the saloon. _What is Carrie waiting for? Why hasn't she told Adam? Why hasn't she confronted that Miss Kinkead and her little brats?_

Stu clipped a passing miner on the shoulder as he rushed by, sending the skinny man toppling over a barrel outside the Feed Store. _If Adam thinks that prissy gal and her brats died in that fire, and she thinks that Adam died . . . Ha! He's gonna hafta make a choice, Carrie or Mercy . . . That's why Carrie's waiting. She knows he might not pick her! But wait, Old Man Cartwright getting shot throws this whole mess into a different light. Who knows what'll happen in Adam's mixed-up mind when all of this comes out!_

Stu grinned. _He'll probably turn into that William guy . . . or maybe someone else! That would leave little Miss Too-good-for-Stu all alone and saddened by her lunatic ex-whatever!_

Rounding the corner at full speed, Stu nearly collided with two elderly women toting large bundles from the general store. "Why don't you watch where you're going?" Stu yelled, never falling out of step as he bolted toward the saloon across the street. Mumbling obscenities, he never once looked back at the destruction in his path.

"Ladies, are you all right?" the store clerk asked as he bent down to retrieve the fallen bundles. "That man is a menace! I wonder what's got him worked up into such a state!"

"Stu Weaver should have been locked away years ago, if ya ask me!" insisted the eldest of the ladies. "I remember when his father was killed. Should've been sent away then!"

Everyone nodded their agreement. The ladies continued on their way, clucking like hens over the recent mishap, and the clerk returned to his counter covered with the newly delivered merchandise of the day.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Carrie, what are you gonna do?" Alyssa asked. "You've slept on it like you said you wanted to. Are things any clearer today?"

Carrie sipped her steaming coffee, hardly noticing the burning sensation against her tongue. Sleep had selfishly lingered around the perimeters of her bedroom, taunting her by its nearness and goading her to make a decision. She'd struggled with paths and plans, outcomes and consequences, and in the first light of dawn she'd reached two conclusions: she had to do something quickly or Stu Weaver would find a way to reveal the truth while doing as much damage to those involved as he possibly could, and, no matter what she did or when she did it, Adam's happiness, Ben's health and the future of Mercy Kinkead, Danny, and Mary were all that really mattered.

"The Cartwrights have asked me to help Ben while he recovers. They've invited me to stay at the Ponderosa," Carrie explained. "If I know Adam, Hoss and Joe, they'll stay as close to their father as possible."

Alyssa agreed. "Knowing them, I'm surprised they've agreed to let anyone help! Those sons of his love him more than he knows and I can't believe they'd leave him alone for even just a minute!"

"I know!" Carrie felt a grin of pride spreading over her face. "I must say I am flattered to know they want me there." Her smile slowly faded as she sipped her coffee and in its place appeared worry and fear. "If you and I were the only ones who knew, we could control things," Carrie said. "But Lord knows we can't control Stu. He could get drunk and blurt the entire thing in the saloon . . ."

Alyssa spun on her heels for the fifth time as, lost in thought, she continued pacing the length of the kitchen as Carrie went on.

"Or show up at the Ponderosa shouting that Mercy is alive!" Carrie continued. "Or Mercy could hear someone mention Adam's name or . . ."

"WAIT! That's it!" Alyssa shouted. "Carrie, something's been nagging at me ever since you told me about Mercy! Why is she here? I mean, why Virginia City? Of all the places she could go . . . If she wanted to get away from the memories of the fire, why come here? She must know it's where Adam's family lives. She knows about Ben, Hoss, and Joe. So, what does she want here?"

Carrie shook her head. "I . . . I guess I assumed she wanted to be near his home . . . to get some sort of comfort in dealing with her loss."

"Carrie, she's traveled all the way from Canada with two small children . . . Seems to me that's a bit odd. What if she's here for some sort of . . . I don't know . . . gain?"

Carrie, her cup held motionless midway to her mouth, stared into Alyssa's eyes in disbelief. When the liquid sloshed gently from side to side, Alyssa steadied her friend's shaking hand.

"She wouldn't do something like that . . . Would she?"


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

At great length, the buckboard had been transformed into a passable substitute for a bed. Adam, Hoss, Joe and Roy had transferred Ben to a make-shift stretcher and carried him gingerly to the waiting wagon. Pillows, blankets and quilts wedged Ben's body tightly in an attempt to prevent as much jostling as was possible on the trip home.

Though the undertaking of getting him home had just begun, Paul frowned at the obvious signs that the journey was already taking a toll on Ben. He leaded into the buckboard, his frustration rising as he delivered one final plea.

"Ben, I'm going to say it one more time. I'm against this. I can see that you're in pain and I've told you, you're risking opening your wound . . . ."

Ben's smile was a weak one, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going home, Paul. It's where I need to be."

Adam took the reins, nodded to Paul and as soon as the doctor settled in beside his patient, Adam coaxed the horses into a slow gait out of Virginia City and down the long road to the Ponderosa.

Despite Adam's struggle to keep the team at a snail's pace and avoid the countless chuckholes between town and the Ponderosa, the buckboard rocked and rattled along. He cursed loudly, his eyes glaring at the landscape that was threatening to harm his father. Joe and Hoss, riding on either side of the buckboard, felt their eldest brother's frustration and longed for a smooth path to follow.

Paul kept close watch on Ben's condition, cursing under his breath at his patient and friend. Had the doctor had his way, Ben would have remained in town, under his care for several more days, but Ben had insisted that his recovery would hasten if he were in his own bed, in his own room, on his beloved ranch.

Carrie, driving the doctor's buggy and following closely behind, gasped with every tilt and righting of the wagon. She said a silent prayer for Ben's life and then focused her thoughts on how she might comfort him once he was safely settled in his own bed at home.

_I have to focus on one thing: Mr. Cartwright. I can't let anything . . . or anyone else come before his recovery. Once he's stronger, out of danger . . . then I'll have to make a decision. I only pray that Stu stays true to form - drunk in Virginia City . . . and that the Cartwrights do what they always do . . . remain close to the one who needs them the most._

Knowing Paul would see to Ben's needs before returning to Virginia City, her thoughts shifted to how she might reassure Ben's sons that they'd done the right thing in moving their father – a difficult undertaking knowing full well that she and Paul both disagreed with their decision to honor their father's wishes.

"Hey, Adam!" Hoss yelled from just ahead on the road. "Watch out! On yer left, there's a mess a chuckholes in a row. Swing wide!"

Adam waved his agreement and steered the team to the right.

Carrie followed, looking over the side of the buggy at the pits and valleys along the road. _Having Hoss and Joe riding along was a very smart idea. That group of holes could've easily opened Mr. Cartwright's wound. At least it isn't much further to the ranch._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

Paul stepped quietly into the hallway just outside of Ben's bedroom door, pulling the door halfway shut behind him. When he turned, he was startled to find Adam and Joe standing shoulder to shoulder with Hoss close behind. "Have you three been standing out here all this time?" Paul asked.

"Now, Paul," Adam said, "just where did you expect us to go?"

Had Paul not known him so well, he would have taken offense at Adam's hostile tone of voice. But after they'd carried Ben upstairs, he'd seen the faces of the three young men as they were shooed from the bedroom. At the time, he was most concerned about Joe's state of mind, but as he and Carrie worked to settle Ben into his new surroundings, Carrie had voiced her concerns for Adam.

_I guess the young lady was right. Adam's a matchstick away from an explosion!_

"Adam!" Hoss admonished.

Joe couldn't wait another second for a report. Shooting a glaring look at both of his brothers, he asked the question they all wanted answered. "How's Pa?"

Paul closed the door completely before giving the anxious men an answer. "The whole ordeal of being moved exhausted him, but his stitches are still intact. Thank God no further damage was done. Right now, he's asleep, courtesy of a powder and Carrie's soothing voice. She'll stay with him whether he's asleep or awake and has promised to call for anything he might need."

Joe stepped toward the door and Paul widened his stance, blocking the young man's way.

"There's one more thing," Paul said.

Joe froze in place, his heart beating through his neck and into his ears. Adam and Hoss both held their breath, not knowing what to expect from the doctor.

Paul raised a pointed finger. "You . . . all three of you, will immediately go downstairs and let Hop Sing feed you. Next, you will quietly and calmly check on your pa and make sure Carrie has everything she needs for the night. Finally, you will go to bed and sleep. Hop Sing will stay awake through the night, as will Carrie. They have promised to summon you should the need arise. Have I made myself clear?"

"That sounds mighty fine, Doc," Hoss said, "jist as soon as we . . ."

"I'm sorry, Hoss," Paul said. "There is no room for discussion here. You either follow my orders and Carrie's to the letter or tomorrow morning, Ben goes back to my place to recover."

Grudgingly, Adam, Hoss, and Joe agreed to abide by the doctor's wishes. He followed them downstairs and to the dining table. Hop Sing entered from the kitchen, carrying the first of several bowls and plates of food. With a stern look, Paul turned them over to Hop Sing's authority.

They watched from the dining room as Paul closed the front door behind him. Hop Sing mumbled in Chinese before retreating to the kitchen for the coffee carafe.

Adam and Hoss seated themselves, reluctantly, before spooning Hop Sing's offerings onto their plates. Joe, his eyes focused sharply on the staircase in the great room, fumed as he paced the length of the dining table.

"Joe, will ya sit down and have something to eat?" Adam suggested, the edge in his voice making it more of an order.

Joe's pacing continued.

Hoss shot a glance at Adam as both men, their appetites reflecting their emotions, pushed bits and pieces of pork and potatoes from side to side on their plates.

"I don't know about you two," Joe barked, "but I'd be up in that room right this very minute . . ."

"Joe, now ya know ya can't do that," Hoss countered. "Carrie'd have your hide fer shore."

"Nah . . . I'm not worried about Carrie," Joe glowered, glancing toward the stairs.

"Well, ya should be. She could make a rattlesnake turn 'n' slither off with just a single glance," Hoss said. "I wouldn't chance it, Joe. Why, when that little gal gets angry, she even scares me . . . even more'n ole Hop Sing." Hoss nodded as he stabbed a large bite of meat and raised it to his mouth.

Tight-lipped, Adam buttered his bread and ignored his brothers' statements. He laid his knife carefully against his plate and lifted the warm slice toward his mouth. His eyes caught the stares from his brothers, and the bread never made it to his waiting lips.

"She doesn't frighten me," Adam said before biting into the sweet, crusty end-piece, ". . . much."


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

"Ah, good," Carrie thought. "No fever. Still a bit pale, but that's to be expected." Carrie carefully adjusted the intricately hand-stitched quilt so that it came just to the top of Ben's shoulders.

_Such a handsome man, even injured and fast asleep!_

Carrie looked away, suddenly overcome by the impact of seeing a man she'd always known to be strong and vibrant now lying closer to death than anyone wanted to admit.

_I won't let it happen. That's all there is to it. I forbid any more unpleasantness to happen to this family!_

Carrie thought back to her conversation with Alyssa, rehashing every possible scenario they'd invented and analyzing each probable outcome.

_It still feels like the right thing to do . . . The only thing to do. I only hope Adam will forgive me._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

It was an unusually warm day in Virginia City for the time of year. Nervously, Mercy smoothed the skirt of her rust-colored dress with her fingertips. She'd explained to Mr. Reichert that she'd been directed to his attention by Mrs. Brighton regarding the teaching position in Virginia City. She had answered each of Mr. Reichert's queries with accurate information and impeccable grammar. Her appearance was exemplary and her demeanor was that of a well-trained teacher and disciplinarian.

This position was an excellent one: one that would provide for Danny, Mary and AnnaLynn as well as herself; one that would present challenges for her as a growing, learning teacher; one that would open the door of opportunity to meet Adam's family and share with them the last months of his life and the details of his final days.

"I have one final question, Miss Kinkead," the kind man said. "If the school board approves your application, how soon would you be able to start?"

"Well, Mr. Reichert, I would need to make arrangements for the younger two of my children, but I don't foresee a problem there. You see, my landlady, Mrs. Brighton, has expressed a willingness to care for them should I acquire employment here in Virginia City."

For the first time during the lengthy interview, the temporary head of the school council made notes and comments fastidiously on several sheets of paper. Mercy sat stiffly, her hands on her lap, anxiously twisting a small patch of the fabric of her skirt as he repeatedly dipped his pen into the small inkwell on the desk. She listened as the tip scratched against the paper and tried desperately to assess his words from the movement of the pen. When he finished, he thanked her for her time and graciously walked her to the door. She apologized, again, for approaching Mr. Reichert at a time when he was obviously worried about his injured friend. His response left her dazed and shaken beyond belief.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Kinkead," Mr. Reichert said. "Ben Cartwright is a strong man and this whole town is praying for his speedy recovery. I will be in touch as soon as possible. Good day."

Mercy felt her life's blood draining from her face. Somehow, her hand found the edge of the door frame and without realizing, she clutched it, the sharp edges pressing into her flesh. Her mouth hung open and after a moment, a tickle rose in her throat as she inhaled the dust of the busy street. She coughed once, then again, the motion jolting her weakened knees.

The street was crowded with buggies and buckboards in motion, men and women talking and laughing and the faint sound of music from the saloon around the corner. The swish, swish of a broom in the hands of a nearby merchant sounded a backbeat against the rocks that several young boys were tossing against a wall. The whistle at the Gould and Curry mine resonated between the tall buildings as it blew the noon hour.

All around her, life sped forward, while for Mercy Kinkead, time stood still. Her cheeks reddened as her heart pounded against her chest. The sounds of the city grew in her head to an earsplitting volume, dwarfed only by the throbbing of her heart. Then suddenly, there was complete silence. Deafening silence. The world around her marched on as if nothing else mattered. She watched the movement, the progress of life going on without her as she stood motionless in that black silence, alone with the realization that just days before she had unknowingly stood face to face with Adam's father and brother.

_Little_ _Joe. It was Little Joe . . . and his father . . . Adam's pa._

It was an unusually warm day in Virginia City for the time of year. Nervously, Mercy smoothed the skirt of her rust-colored dress with her fingertips. She'd explained to Mr. Reichert that she'd been directed to his attention by Mrs. Brighton regarding the teaching position in Virginia City. She had answered each of Mr. Reichert's queries with accurate information and impeccable grammar. Her appearance was exemplary and her demeanor was that of a well-trained teacher and disciplinarian.

This position was an excellent one: one that would provide for Danny, Mary and AnnaLynn as well as herself; one that would present challenges for her as a growing, learning teacher; one that would open the door of opportunity to meet Adam's family and share with them the last months of his life and the details of his final days.

"I have one final question, Miss Kinkead," the kind man said. "If the school board approves your application, how soon would you be able to start?"

"Well, Mr. Reichert, I would need to make arrangements for the younger two of my children, but I don't foresee a problem there. You see, my landlady, Mrs. Brighton, has expressed a willingness to care for them should I acquire employment here in Virginia City."

For the first time during the lengthy interview, the temporary head of the school council made notes and comments fastidiously on several sheets of paper. Mercy sat stiffly, her hands on her lap, anxiously twisting a small patch of the fabric of her skirt as he repeatedly dipped his pen into the small inkwell on the desk. She listened as the tip scratched against the paper and tried desperately to assess his words from the movement of the pen. When he finished, he thanked her for her time and graciously walked her to the door. She apologized, again, for approaching Mr. Reichert at a time when he was obviously worried about his injured friend. His response left her dazed and shaken beyond belief.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Kinkead," Mr. Reichert said. "Ben Cartwright is a strong man and this whole town is praying for his speedy recovery. I will be in touch as soon as possible. Good day."

Mercy felt her life's blood draining from her face. Somehow, her hand found the edge of the door frame and without realizing, she clutched it, the sharp edges pressing into her flesh. Her mouth hung open and after a moment, a tickle rose in her throat as she inhaled the dust of the busy street. She coughed once, then again, the motion jolting her weakened knees.

The street was crowded with buggies and buckboards in motion, men and women talking and laughing and the faint sound of music from the saloon around the corner. The swish, swish of a broom in the hands of a nearby merchant sounded a backbeat against the rocks that several young boys were tossing against a wall. The whistle at the Gould and Curry mine resonated between the tall buildings as it blew the noon hour.

All around her, life sped forward, while for Mercy Kinkead, time stood still. Her cheeks reddened as her heart pounded against her chest. The sounds of the city grew in her head to an earsplitting volume, dwarfed only by the throbbing of her heart. Then suddenly, there was complete silence. Deafening silence. The world around her marched on as if nothing else mattered. She watched the movement, the progress of life going on without her as she stood motionless in that black silence, alone with the realization that just days before she had unknowingly stood face to face with Adam's father and brother.

_Little_ _Joe. It was Little Joe . . . and his father . . . Adam's pa._

It was an unusually warm day in Virginia City for the time of year. Nervously, Mercy smoothed the skirt of her rust-colored dress with her fingertips. She'd explained to Mr. Reichert that she'd been directed to his attention by Mrs. Brighton regarding the teaching position in Virginia City. She had answered each of Mr. Reichert's queries with accurate information and impeccable grammar. Her appearance was exemplary and her demeanor was that of a well-trained teacher and disciplinarian.

This position was an excellent one: one that would provide for Danny, Mary and AnnaLynn as well as herself; one that would present challenges for her as a growing, learning teacher; one that would open the door of opportunity to meet Adam's family and share with them the last months of his life and the details of his final days.

"I have one final question, Miss Kinkead," the kind man said. "If the school board approves your application, how soon would you be able to start?"

"Well, Mr. Reichert, I would need to make arrangements for the younger two of my children, but I don't foresee a problem there. You see, my landlady, Mrs. Brighton, has expressed a willingness to care for them should I acquire employment here in Virginia City."

For the first time during the lengthy interview, the temporary head of the school council made notes and comments fastidiously on several sheets of paper. Mercy sat stiffly, her hands on her lap, anxiously twisting a small patch of the fabric of her skirt as he repeatedly dipped his pen into the small inkwell on the desk. She listened as the tip scratched against the paper and tried desperately to assess his words from the movement of the pen. When he finished, he thanked her for her time and graciously walked her to the door. She apologized, again, for approaching Mr. Reichert at a time when he was obviously worried about his injured friend. His response left her dazed and shaken beyond belief.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Kinkead," Mr. Reichert said. "Ben Cartwright is a strong man and this whole town is praying for his speedy recovery. I will be in touch as soon as possible. Good day."

Mercy felt her life's blood draining from her face. Somehow, her hand found the edge of the door frame and without realizing, she clutched it, the sharp edges pressing into her flesh. Her mouth hung open and after a moment, a tickle rose in her throat as she inhaled the dust of the busy street. She coughed once, then again, the motion jolting her weakened knees.

The street was crowded with buggies and buckboards in motion, men and women talking and laughing and the faint sound of music from the saloon around the corner. The swish, swish of a broom in the hands of a nearby merchant sounded a backbeat against the rocks that several young boys were tossing against a wall. The whistle at the Gould and Curry mine resonated between the tall buildings as it blew the noon hour.

All around her, life sped forward, while for Mercy Kinkead, time stood still. Her cheeks reddened as her heart pounded against her chest. The sounds of the city grew in her head to an earsplitting volume, dwarfed only by the throbbing of her heart. Then suddenly, there was complete silence. Deafening silence. The world around her marched on as if nothing else mattered. She watched the movement, the progress of life going on without her as she stood motionless in that black silence, alone with the realization that just days before she had unknowingly stood face to face with Adam's father and brother.

_Little_ _Joe. It was Little Joe . . . and his father . . . Adam's pa._


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

"Miss Mercy," Danny whispered as he and Mary walked hand in hand into the shade-darkened room.

Mary tugged on her brother's hand. "See didn't heew you."

"Miss Mercy!" Danny repeated, leaning forward, raising his voice toward the shadowed figure sitting next to the veiled window.

Before turning, Mercy wiped her face with shaking hands. Her tears had left behind thin lines, and they were joined by fresh tears, forming new paths down her cheeks, crossing one another before losing their downward momentum. She exhaled, releasing herself from the sad and terrifying memories. Closing her eyes, she focused on the innocent voices coming from behind. "What is it, Danny?"

Danny and Mary stepped closer to the window seat.

"Mary came up to show you her picture . . . and she heard you crying," Danny explained. "She got really scared and came and got me. Miss Mercy, why are you crying?"

With great resolve, Mercy put on her best smile and turned toward the children and their upturned eyes. She explained that the tension of the teaching position interview and the anxiety of waiting for a response had taken their toll on her, and when their worried, confused expressions deepened, she tried to ease their fears. "You remember how excited you both were when I told you we would be taking a very long trip?"

"Yes, ma'am. You said we would be riding in big, fast stagecoaches and sleeping in 'away' stations and traveling all the way to Virginia City!"

Mercy smiled at the animation in Danny's voice. Their trip had been a lengthy one, full of wondrous sights, interesting people and an overwhelming abundance of laughter. She was touched that even now, Danny's eyes shone bright with enthusiasm over their journey. "That's right, Danny," Mercy said. "And remember how difficult it was for you to eat or sleep during those days before our trek began?"

Mary giggled. "You said Danny was a sqwomy womy!"

"I did!" Mercy laughed as she tickled Danny's sides. "And Danny, you _were_ a squirmy wormy!"

The next few minutes overflowed with giggles and pleas as Mercy, Danny, and Mary engaged in the first tickle battle they'd held since Adam's passing. After thrashing around from the floor to the bed, the children lay panting on either side of Mercy, one tiny blonde head cradled in the crook of each of Mercy's arms.

"I was crying, Danny . . . just a little," Mercy admitted. "All of the changes and possibilities seemed to sneak up on me all at once."

"You mean you were overwhemmed?"

Mercy smiled as she kissed the top of Danny's head. "Overwhelmed. And yes, Danny, I was overwhelmed. Just like you were overwhelmed with excitement about our trip and turned into a . . ."

"A sqwomy womy!" Mary interjected.

". . . a squirmy wormy," Mercy continued, "I became overwhelmed and found myself crying! But I'm fine now, thank you, and if I'm correct, I think it's about time for us to head downstairs and offer our help to Mrs. Brighton. Just because we are boarders here doesn't mean we can't help with dinner."

"I can fold nakins!" Mary announced proudly.

Mercy smiled. "Yes, you surely can!"

"And I can set the plates!" Danny chimed.

"All right then," Mercy announced. "C'mon. Let's go!"

As the children ran ahead, Mercy stole one more glance through the corner of the window shade. The garden they'd planted, still raw and bare though covered in fresh, fertile soil, stared back at her from below. _AnnaLynn arrives tomorrow. Then, another day or two. That's all. Another day or two. Once I can be assured that Mr. Cartwright is well on the mend. That's when I'll do it. That's when I'll tell him and Adam's beloved brothers about Adam's life at the orphanage. His time with the children he loved. His life with the three he adored. Maybe, just maybe then, Danny, Mary, AnnaLynn, and I will make our new home here in Virginia City._

_. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._

Silently, Hoss's form blocked the doorway as he watched tender hands wringing the wet cloth. Gently, the soothing coolness was dabbed across his father's forehead as the tones of a comforting melody were hummed. For six straight hours, Carrie had nursed his pa, working tirelessly to keep his fever under control and make him as comfortable as possible. An unlikely blend of worry and admiration masked Hoss's weary face as Carrie placed the cloth into the basin, stood next to the bed and stretched hours' worth of tension kinks from her neck and shoulders. From behind, a strong hand clasping his shoulder jolted Hoss's awareness.

"Any change?" Adam whispered.

The familiar, soft baritone launched a whirlwind of emotions for Carrie. Frightened by the knowledge that one sentence from her could either ensure Adam's happiness or hurl him into an unknown frenzy weighed heavily on her mind. She pushed those thoughts deeper inside, burying them temporarily as she addressed the question at hand. After a deep breath, she turned and met Hoss and Adam halfway into the room.

"How is he?" Hoss asked.

"He hasn't regained consciousness since we settled him in his bed," Carrie answered, the disappointment in their eyes prompting her to continue. "His fever is minimal . . . to be expected, nothing more. His color is good . . . I won't lie to you. I would feel better if he'd wake up, even if just for a few minutes, but his stillness has kept his wound from opening and there's been no bleeding for several hours."

Hoss's face remained pained.

Carrie stepped in front of him, partially blocking the view of his prone father. "Hoss," she said as she touched his shoulder. "Believe me, it's not bad news. He's resting comfortably, regaining his strength. He'll wake up when his body tells him to."

The tightness in his face relaxed and in the darkness of the dimly lit room, Carrie was sure she saw a trace of a smile.

Adam absentmindedly brushed against her shoulder as he walked toward the bed, anxious for some measure of comfort in proximity.

"I've never seen him so worried," Carrie thought. "Not that time when Hoss was shot. Not even the time Joe was nearly beaten to death." She stepped beside Adam, placing her hand over his as it rested on the bed. She watched as her fingers curled around his, a twinge of immediately-regretted jealousy rising within her as his fingers failed to return the gesture. _Stop it, Carrie Baker! Of course he didn't squeeze your hand in return. He's sick with worry over his father, trying his best to remain strong for his brothers and besides . . . he's in love with someone else._

Carrie closed her eyes to a portrait, vivid watercolors of Adam and Mercy, the edges of their figures soft and indistinct, with no way to discern where one began and one ended. The image filled her mind and there she saw it - Adam smiling, his eyes beaming with love. _Oh, Adam. This is so very wrong! Mercy is just a ride away. My God, you don't even know that she's alive! How will you ever forgive me for keeping this from you? How can I forgive myself if telling you at the wrong time makes you lost to us all? And what if Alyssa is on to something? What is Mercy looking for here in Virginia City when she believes that you perished in that fire?_

Carrie slowly pulled her hand away from his, the gesture of touch unregistered in his mind as he stared, willing his father's eyes to open.

Silently, Hoss's form blocked the doorway as he watched tender hands wringing the wet cloth. Gently, the soothing coolness was dabbed across his father's forehead as the tones of a comforting melody were hummed. For six straight hours, Carrie had nursed his pa, working tirelessly to keep his fever under control and make him as comfortable as possible. An unlikely blend of worry and admiration masked Hoss's weary face as Carrie placed the cloth into the basin, stood next to the bed and stretched hours' worth of tension kinks from her neck and shoulders. From behind, a strong hand clasping his shoulder jolted Hoss's awareness.

"Any change?" Adam whispered.

The familiar, soft baritone launched a whirlwind of emotions for Carrie. Frightened by the knowledge that one sentence from her could either ensure Adam's happiness or hurl him into an unknown frenzy weighed heavily on her mind. She pushed those thoughts deeper inside, burying them temporarily as she addressed the question at hand. After a deep breath, she turned and met Hoss and Adam halfway into the room.

"How is he?" Hoss asked.

"He hasn't regained consciousness since we settled him in his bed," Carrie answered, the disappointment in their eyes prompting her to continue. "His fever is minimal . . . to be expected, nothing more. His color is good . . . I won't lie to you. I would feel better if he'd wake up, even if just for a few minutes, but his stillness has kept his wound from opening and there's been no bleeding for several hours."

Hoss's face remained pained.

Carrie stepped in front of him, partially blocking the view of his prone father. "Hoss," she said as she touched his shoulder. "Believe me, it's not bad news. He's resting comfortably, regaining his strength. He'll wake up when his body tells him to."

The tightness in his face relaxed and in the darkness of the dimly lit room, Carrie was sure she saw a trace of a smile.

Adam absentmindedly brushed against her shoulder as he walked toward the bed, anxious for some measure of comfort in proximity.

"I've never seen him so worried," Carrie thought. "Not that time when Hoss was shot. Not even the time Joe was nearly beaten to death." She stepped beside Adam, placing her hand over his as it rested on the bed. She watched as her fingers curled around his, a twinge of immediately-regretted jealousy rising within her as his fingers failed to return the gesture. _Stop it, Carrie Baker! Of course he didn't squeeze your hand in return. He's sick with worry over his father, trying his best to remain strong for his brothers and besides . . . he's in love with someone else._

Carrie closed her eyes to a portrait, vivid watercolors of Adam and Mercy, the edges of their figures soft and indistinct, with no way to discern where one began and one ended. The image filled her mind and there she saw it - Adam smiling, his eyes beaming with love. _Oh, Adam. This is so very wrong! Mercy is just a ride away. My God, you don't even know that she's alive! How will you ever forgive me for keeping this from you? How can I forgive myself if telling you at the wrong time makes you lost to us all? And what if Alyssa is on to something? What is Mercy looking for here in Virginia City when she believes that you perished in that fire?_

Carrie slowly pulled her hand away from his, the gesture of touch unregistered in his mind as he stared, willing his father's eyes to open.


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

"And we can camp in, if Mrs. Brighton and Miss Mercy say it's okay," Danny told Mary as they sat side by side.

The sturdy, wooden crate resting against the wall outside the stage office was just large enough to seat the two young children.

"Wiff a tent made outta bed sheets like Mr. Adam showed us?" Mary squealed, excited by the promise of 'camping in' with Danny and AnnaLynn.

"Uh huh!" Danny replied, swinging his legs forward and back as they dangled from the crate.

Mary imitated Danny's movements with her own legs, swinging them in and out as they waited patiently for the arrival of the noon stage.

"And AnnaLynn can tell us scawwy stowies in the tent!" Mary added.

"But you have to promise not to cry!" Danny said, shaking a finger at Mary.

"I'll twy reawy, reawy harwd!"

Mercy, pacing impatiently, kept one eye on the children and the other on the corner at the north end of the main street in Virginia City. Her mind was full of anticipation and her heart longed to see her three children together for the first time in months. She thought of the decision to travel to Virginia City and how it had come to fruition nearly four months after the fire that had destroyed the orphanage.

During the first two months, Mercy had tried in desperation to acquire the funds to rebuild the only home many of the orphans had ever known. She'd buried the anguish of Adam's death in the rubble of paperwork, meetings, pleas, and sometimes, broken promises. With the painful realization that her attempts to rebuild had failed, that anguish flooded forth, pouring rampantly into her mind and mostly, into her heart. Its fierce current carried with it the guilt that Adam had perished while trying to save the children and herself.

_If only you'd known we'd found our way out._

As she continued pacing, she recalled the day she'd made the agonizing resolution to locate new homes for the children. She'd stood in the back of the tiny town's makeshift church where they'd been living since the fire. Watching as the children ate yet another begged for and finally donated meal, she'd heard the low, baritone voice of a man from behind. Even now, she recognized that the voice was nothing like Adam's, but in that moment, her heart skipped several beats as she spun around only to see a stranger reading aloud from a nearby town's newspaper.

"Says here they're gonna hang the guilty man," the stranger had remarked. "Says the man's claimin' he didn't kill nobody . . . And get this! Says the man, William's his name, can't remember where he was or what he was doin' that night! Guess we've all heard that one before! They all say they're innocent up until the noose is tight and their feet's a danglin'!"

_Murder. Hanging. Fire. Homeless children. Death. I could have handled it all, except for death, Adam. I still don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the hopeless feeling and the uncertain future of all of my . . . our children. But when that man read aloud about a hanging, I couldn't be strong anymore. Not without you by my side._

Mercy stopped pacing, leaning heavily against the stage depot wall next to the crate holding Danny and Mary.

She remembered a rage building inside her, bubbling from so deep within that even now, heat rose in her face. The room had begun to twist and shift from upright to sideways and she recalled grasping tightly to a door frame, desperately trying to maintain her balance. Then the room became colorless, everything turning to shades of grey. Next, her vision was cloaked in total darkness and for a brief moment, she thought of the hangman's noose and the black hood offered to its victims. Nearly twenty-four hours later, Mercy, lying on her bedroll in the church, had regained consciousness. She was told she'd fainted from exhaustion and was assured that the children had been well cared for while she'd recovered.

As the surrounding community had spread the word about the homeless orphans, Mercy'd stood resilient in their placements - and in her heart wrenching goodbyes. They'd all been sent off, tearfully, with the few items they'd been given after the fire, and a letter written by their beloved Miss Kinkead - a letter that included the address of a Mr. and Mrs. Charles Chetwyn - an address at which they could all stay in touch and one which Mercy would write to with her address once she, AnnaLynn, Danny, and Mary settled.

The pounding sounds of the approaching stage halted Mercy's thoughts of the past. Danny pumped his tiny fists and Mary clapped her hands, both children bouncing anxiously as they waited to greet the young girl they'd come to consider a big sister. When the stage door opened, Mercy's face flushed as AnnaLynn stepped down into street. Their welcome embrace was a lengthy one, leaving Danny and Mary to wait impatiently atop the crate. They separated, and Mercy stood aside, giving AnnaLynn full view of the children.

"Miss Kinkead, I thought you said that Danny and Mary were here!" AnnaLynn teased. "I don't see those two little scamps anywhere!"

AnnaLynn and Mercy peered back to and fro, never quite setting eyes on the beaming, giggling faces of Danny and Mary.

"We'w ovew heew!" Mary shouted, unable to contain her laughter any longer.

"Did you hear something, AnnaLynn?" Miss Kinkead whispered loudly.

"I did! But I'm not sure . . ."

AnnaLynn turned on her heels and reached for Mary and Danny, scooping them up in her arms and, much to their delight, spinning them around and around.

Their giggles and squeals caught the attention of several customers exiting the general store. One of those customers stopped short of being seen and tucked herself between some stacks of goods along the sidewalk.

"We missed you, AnnaLynn!" Danny shouted as he threw his arms around her neck and squeezed her tightly.

AnnaLynn returned his hug, placed a gentle kiss on Mary's cheek and smiled broadly at Miss Kinkead. "I missed you all, so very much! And I have letters, three letters from some of the children. And I have another from Mr. and Mrs. Chetwyn."

"How are they?" Miss Kinkead asked.

"They're fine. They were awfully sad when I left," AnnaLynn added. "So was I. Almost as sad as when you all left to come here. But I'm glad I stayed behind to help them. Mrs. Chetwyn is up and around now, and her doctor says she's made a full recovery. I'm really gonna miss them."

"I miss them, too," Miss Kinkead admitted. "And I'm sure they were more than grateful for your help. And now that we're all together, we have a few decisions to make and several important people to see. But first, we'd best get to the boarding house. Mrs. Brighton has been so excited to meet you, AnnaLynn."

"And if the 'dults say yes, we can camp in tonight!" Mary said, hope and pleas in her voice.

"Well then," AnnaLynn said, "let's go see Mrs. Brighton!"

Mercy and AnnaLynn each took a tiny hand in theirs and the foursome strolled down the street toward their new home.

Only then did the shadowed figure peer out from the stacks, watching as the foursome continued on their way. _So that's AnnaLynn. I've gotta let Carrie know. Maybe I was wrong about Mercy Kinkead. Maybe she's just been waiting until they were all here. Maybe._

Another figure, hidden against the alley wall, also watched and wondered as the four went on their way. Stu Weaver stood with his arms across his chest and sniggered when he saw Alyssa taking in the whole scene. _Whatcha gonna do with this new bit of information, Lyssa? I'm guessin' you'll be headin' out to the Ponderosa to tell Nurse Carrie all about that pretty little thing that just stepped off the stage._


	29. Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

"Oh, my heavens!" Mrs. Brighton shrieked. "This pretty young thing must be AnnaLynn! And she's even more lovely than I imagined!"

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Brighton," AnnaLynn greeted. "You certainly do have a lovely boarding house."

"And she likes to pway tea pawty!" Mary whispered.

Mrs. Brighton beamed. "Now, I hear tell that AnnaLynn makes the best cookies in Canada," she said as she gathered Mary into her arms. "So, once she's settled in, maybe AnnaLynn will make some for our very next tea party!"

Mary threw her arms around Mazie Brighton's neck, wiggled even closer into her chest, and hugged with all her might.

"I can help!" Danny added. "I'm a real good cookie appremice!"

AnnaLynn giggled as she tousled Danny's hair. "Well, then, Mr. Apprentice, what's say we meet in the kitchen later this afternoon, if that's all right with Mrs. Brighton and Miss Kinkead."

Both ladies spoke their approval and moments later, the three children had disappeared upstairs to settle AnnaLynn into her room.

"Well, if you don't need me," Mrs. Brighton announced, "I'd best skedaddle to the store. I believe we are in need of some flour."

"Oh, please, Mrs. Brighton," Mercy said as she reached for her bag, "let me run and get the flour. After all, it's for AnnaLynn's cookies."

"Nonsense, child," Mrs. Brighton replied as she grabbed hold of Mercy's shoulders and directed her, with a smidgen too much force, toward the staircase. "Your little one just arrived and you should help get her accustomed to her new surroundings. Besides," she added as she placed her hat atop her head and primped it into place in front of the long, rectangular mirror, "not only will I enjoy watching AnnaLynn and those little imps baking in my kitchen, but I was planning on doing a little baking myself." She hurried to the credenza and checked inside her bag. "I'd like to send some cookies off to Carrie and the Cartwrights. Not that Hop Sing - he's their house man - isn't taking good care of their needs, mind you." She flung the front door open and hesitated just long enough to finish. "But I'm willing to bet that even Mary could make better cookies than Hop Sing! Now, I won't be long. Make yourself at home."

Mercy smiled as Mrs. Brighton toddled down the path toward town. She felt the heat that had risen in her cheeks at the mention of the Cartwrights. _Good thing she was walking away from me. How would I have explained . . .? Oh my. If Mrs. Brighton goes to the Ponderosa, she could mention . . . And then . . ._

"Miss Kinkead," Danny called, "AnnaLynn needs some help, please."

"I've got to get things straightened out before all of this gets out of hand!" she thought as she bounded up the stairs.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Brighton," Mr. Reichert said, tipping his hat. "I'll be heading over to your boarding house in a bit to speak with Miss Kinkead. Might you know if she's in?"

"Good afternoon. Why, yes, she is, Mr. Reichert. And I must say, the poor thing has been beside herself ever since your meeting last week," Mrs. Brighton replied. "I hope I'm not overstepping when I say that I do hope you'll be carrying good news when you see her."

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave the telling of the details of my visit to Miss Kinkead," he replied with a smile and a wink, then whispered over his shoulder as he headed toward the boarding house. "It wouldn't be appropriate for me to divulge any specifics, don't you know?"

Mrs. Brighton beamed. In the matter of a few short weeks, she'd grown to admire Mercy and had become quite fond of her, Danny and Mary. The thought of them moving on, should Mercy not find work, had caused Mrs. Brighton several fitful nights' rest. Knowing now that they and AnnaLynn would be staying on in Virginia City filled her heart with joy and put a bounce in her step as she continued on her way to the store.

Had she hesitated, she might have noticed the shadow as it disappeared further into the alley.

_So, the fair maiden will be staying in Virginia City, along with those two, no make it three, brats. Now, if Carrie would just do my bidding, ole Adam might just wake up and find himself with a new name, locked in some filthy, disgusting loony bin! _Stu skipped a step in celebration of his impending success._ Virginia City will be buzzin' when they cart the high and mighty Adam Cartwright away in a wagon with his pa and brothers left to stand in the street and watch! _Stu laughed aloud at the vision forming in his head. He licked his lips in anticipation before cutting directly in front of several men as he flung open the batwing doors to the Golden Nugget Saloon. After ordering a bottle of whiskey, Stu dropped heavily into one of the few vacant chairs in the far left corner. He thumped the cork from the bottle, sending it flying across the room, poured himself a glass after taking a swig directly from the bottle and leaned his chair back on two legs.

_A toast to my father. The man who hated me and drove my ma to an early death. The man who told me over and over that I wasn't right. The man who tried until the day he died to send me away . . . to have me locked up just like ole Adam Cartwright's gonna be. To my father!_


	30. Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

Alyssa finished her chores in record time. Promising to be home in time for supper, she mounted Twinkle, waved to her mother and rode in the direction of the turn-off toward the Ponderosa. Concentrating so relentlessly on the task at hand, she found herself at the fork in the road sooner than expected.

"Maybe I should wait, Twinkle. What do you think? I mean, maybe I should nose around a little more. Find out more about Mercy Kinkead. I mean, Carrie's gonna need as many facts as possible before she tells . . . Geez, Twinkle! Who's she gonna tell? Is she gonna walk right up to Adam and say 'that woman you thought was dead isn't, and neither are the children? Oh, and guess what, Adam! They're all here in Virginia City'!"

Twinkle pawed heavily at the loose dirt beneath her hooves.

"Or maybe she'll tell Mr. Cartwright and let him decide how to do the Adam-telling'! And what if Mr. Cartwright decides Adam isn't yet strong enough to know?"

The pony raised her head and let out a blow. Sharply, without any rein commands, Twinkle turned and faced the path toward Virginia City.

"Twinkle? Are you trying to tell me something, girl?" Alyssa patted the mare's head. "There is another possibility, you know. Carrie could tell Mercy that Adam is alive and let whatever happens happen!"

Twinkle shook her head and stepped forward along the road to Virginia City.

"I think you're right, girl. Let's pay a visit to Aunt Mazie see if we can learn anything else about her newest boarders."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Why, Alyssa, dear! What a nice surprise!" Mrs. Brighton said as she hugged the young lady and invited her inside. Before closing the door, Mazie searched the street leading to her home, hoping to see Mr. Reichert heading their way. _Not just yet! Oh, my! I'm about to bust!_

Alyssa followed Mrs. Brighton toward the sounds of laughter and giggles in the boarding house kitchen. There, she saw Mercy, Danny, Mary, and the newcomer, AnnaLynn, all wearing traces of powdery flour on their clothing and faces. Mary, standing atop one of the kitchen chairs supported by Mercy, was stirring a thick batter in one of Mrs. Brighton's large ceramic bowls. The moppet looked up at the spectators.

"Hi, Miss 'Lyssa!" she grinned. "We're makin' cookies!"

Alyssa smiled. "I can see that, Mary!"

"If you want to help," Danny added, "you have to wear a apron. Boys don't usually wear aprons, but when we're making cookies, we do!"

Alyssa nodded and smiled at Mercy.

"That's right, Danny," Mercy said. "Boy chefs do wear aprons to protect their clothing."

"Danny's a boy chep!" Mary screeched with delight as the wooden spoon she held fast in her hand flung a handful of dough out of the bowl and onto the table.

The little girl's face plummeted. Her eyes instantly welled and her bottom lip jutted out.

"It's okay, Mary," Danny announced. "Even boy chefs spill sometimes!"

Her brother's comforting words were not the remedy Mary needed. Her breath caught in her throat.

"It's all right, little one," Mercy soothed, lifting Mary into her arms. "I promise you that each and every one of us has had a little spill now and then. Do you remember the time AnnaLynn and I made such a mess cooking stew? We got distracted and it boiled all over the stove!"

Danny giggled. "It sounded like fireworks when the top flew off the kettle!"

Mary smiled, but kept her head down and her hand frozen as she clung to the wooden spoon.

"And it took us forever to scrape the gravy off the ceiling!" AnnaLynn added as a quiet knock on the front door drew Mrs. Brighton away unnoticed.

"And," Danny said between giggles, "Mr. Adam laughed so hard!"

Mercy's face went white. "And it took a very long time to clean up our mess, didn't it, AnnaLynn?"

AnnaLynn was ashen. Mercy had asked that she not mention Adam's name until the story of his passing had been divulged to his family, and she and Mercy had both fretted over the possibility of the young children letting his name slip out. Quickly, AnnaLynn scooped Danny into her arms. "And remember the time I burned the cookies because we were busy playing hide and seek?"

Danny laughed and squirmed in her arms as she tickled him, kissing his neck over and over until he could barely breathe.

Though Mercy and AnnaLynn did all they could to mask Danny's slip, Alyssa knew what she'd heard.

"Mary, honey, how about I clean up this little, tiny spill," Alyssa said as she lifted the clump of dough and tossed it out the side door. "There. Now, are you chefs going to get these cookies to baking so I can taste one?"

"May Miss Lyssa have one of our cookies?" Mary asked, the embarrassing spill nearly forgotten.

"Of course, she may," Mercy smiled, her grin quickly fading as Mrs. Brighton ushered Mr. Reichert into the kitchen.


	31. Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

"Thank you, Mr. Reichert," Mercy said as she fought to control the smile swelling inside. "I accept the position and I must say, Mr. Reichert, that I am honored by your show of confidence in my abilities!"

Danny stood hand-in-hand with AnnaLynn, and Alyssa was hard-pressed to tell which one wore the bigger grin. Mary, unsure of the stranger in the room and not understanding his pronouncement, pressed tightly against Mercy's leg, hiding her face but peeking at Mr. Reichert with one eye. Alyssa smiled at Mary and the little girl mirrored the gesture. Mazie Brighton stood quietly in the corner, grinning like a proud parent, a look Alyssa had seen before whenever she or Carrie had good news.

"From what I've seen, Miss Kinkead," Mr. Reichert said, "it's the children of Virginia City who will benefit greatly from your talents." Mr. Reichert's eyes beamed as he watched the young woman's attempt to control her excitement. Although the decision to hire had been made without one very influential and respected school board member's input, he couldn't imagine that Ben Cartwright would have any reservations about Miss Mercy Kinkead.

AnnaLynn couldn't wait any longer. She and Mercy shared a warm, congratulatory hug - one that Alyssa recognized as a bond between mother and daughter.

"AnnaLynn's not an orphan," Alyssa thought. "She has a mother in every aspect of the word. And along with Danny and Mary, they are a family."

"Oh, Mr. Reichert," Mercy apologized, "please forgive me. These are my children, AnnaLynn, Danny and this," she added as she swung Mary into her arms, "is Mary."

"Well, it's very nice to meet you all," the man replied.

"We're makin' cookies!" Mary announced, then quickly remembered her manners. "Oh, nice a meecha!"

"Hello, Mr. Reichert," AnnaLynn said.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Reichert," Danny added.

"I must say," Mr. Reichert said, shaking his head, "I am impressed with your children's manners, Miss Kinkead. After meeting them, I'm even more satisfied with our decision to offer you the position."

"I agree wholeheartedly!" Mrs. Brighton stated.

Mercy blushed proudly, glancing for several seconds at each of her children. "Thank you, sir."

"Well, I'd best be on my way," Mr. Reichert said.

"I'll show you out," Mercy replied, handing Mary to AnnaLynn.

Alyssa watched as Mercy and Mr. Reichert left the room. _I have so much to tell Carrie. And the first thing I'm gonna tell her is that I truly think I was wrong about Mercy Kinkead._

"Miss Lyssa," Danny said, interrupting Alyssa's thoughts. "Will you help us finish the cookies?"

"Of course I will, Danny." Alyssa lifted Mary back onto her chair while AnnaLynn and Danny scooped the dough into small piles on the trays.

In the parlor, Mercy slipped in front of Mr. Reichert and reached for the doorknob.

"Oh, Miss Kinkead, there is one more thing," Mr. Reichert said. "The other members of the board and I would like you to meet briefly with Mr. Benjamin Cartwright, just as soon as he's up to it." The moment he'd finished his words, he watched as the color drained from Mercy's face. "Mind you, the meeting has nothing to do with your being hired. That is a done deal. But Mr. Cartwright is one of the most prominent members of this community, and a member of the school board. We feel he should have the opportunity to meet you before you begin teaching in the fall."

Chaos erupted in Mercy's stomach as butterflies fluttered their wings amid instant nausea. She swallowed hard, thanked Mr. Reichert and agreed to meet with Mr. Cartwright as soon as he was able.

When the door clicked shut, Mercy's knees nearly failed her. Making her way to the settee in the parlor, she folded her hands in her lap, hoping to stop their trembling. _Adam's father . . . his pa . . . . I knew I'd meet him face to face, sooner or later. The Cartwrights are the reason I'm in Virginia City. They deserve to know where Adam was when he died. They deserve to know that he's not just out of touch, that he's gone. I just wish . . . What if they don't want me here? I mean, a reminder of Adam. Maybe they'll wish I hadn't come here . . . Maybe a letter would have been better than showing up on their doorstep with such devastating news._

The warm breeze outside enticed the delicate, lace curtains into a billowy dance as it wafted the sweet scent of roses through the open window. So strong was the smell that, almost as if in a trance, Mercy walked to the window. The dainty curtains caressed her face and neck as they continued their ballet. _A letter. I could have simply written a letter. Maybe I shouldn't have come here. How can I tell the Cartwrights they've lost a son and a brother? That he died trying to save me and the children? Will they even want to set eyes on us, knowing that . . . Oh, Mercy, why did you drag those babies and yourself all the way to Nevada? Adam is gone . . ._

Then she saw it. A single, yellow rose, its petals spread perfectly in every direction and along every plane, reaching, without abandon, for sunshine and warmth. Yet another whisper of wind saturated the air with its sweetness. Mercy closed her eyes as she clung tightly to the windowsill. She inhaled deeply, and when her eyes opened, a flood of tears rushed down her cheeks. Everything within her sight seemed to bend and lose focus. Everything, except for the one single, perfect yellow rose, a rose such as the one given to her by Adam on the three-month anniversary of their first kiss.

_Oh, Adam, how I loved you. How we all loved you._ Mercy let her eyelids fall softly, breathing in the sweet perfume. She saw a rainbow garden of rose bushes, plump and full of blossoms. She heard laughter coming from a nearby tree and in her daydream, she opened her eyes to see Adam peering back and forth around the massive pine's trunk. Mary, Danny, and AnnaLynn frolicked around the tree, dodging Adam's strong grasp as he growled and stretched his arms for each one as they passed by. As close as they came to his touch, the children seemed always to be just outside of his reach.

Another giggle, much closer this time, begged Mercy to open her eyes, to leave behind a scene not from the past and not possible in the future, and in that moment, Mercy knew what she had to do.


	32. Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Birds chirped their welcome amid sunshine and sweet-smelling afternoon air as Hop Sing stood hidden in the short hallway leading from the kitchen to the great room. He watched as Hoss, who on any given day would have finished several sandwiches by now, pushed his food from one side of the plate to the other, his head dropped slightly, eyes fixed in a blank stare. Without moving into the room, Hop Sing's instincts told him he would find a similar melancholy in both Adam and Little Joe, seated with their brother at the dining table. Forcing his best smile, he burst into the dining room, rambling about the beautiful sunrise earlier that day and the promise of sunshine followed by a warm, summer evening. His false exuberance was lost on the brothers, and he resigned himself to another long day of worrying not only about Ben, but about his boys as well. As he shuffled his way around, offering more of the fare their plates still contained, he continued his attempt at rousing the men from their burden.

"Hop Sing cook all morning. Now you no eat! Hop Sing no cook dinner. Put all food away. Sons no do chores, no work up appetites. Just sit, sit, sit. All day long. Worry, worry, worry. Mr. Cartwright be very angry when he wake up! Ranch fall down. Barn need cleaning. Only Hop Sing do work! And Miss Carrie. She work all day and all night! Take good care of . . ."

"Adam! Hoss! Joe! Hop Sing! He's awake!" Carrie shouted from the room where she'd spent the past several days.

A roar of sound able to dwarf a stampede preceded the swift arrival of the four summoned men. Adam took the lead, despite the fact that he'd been the furthest from the staircase when Carrie beckoned. As he entered his father's room, he slowed, panting from anticipation as much as from the hustle of the directed charge up the steps. At his heels were Joe, Hoss and Hop Sing, all greeted by Carrie's wide smile and glowing eyes.

Carrie stepped back, surrendering her place at Ben's side, and when Adam's voice, strong yet tender at first, cracked with emotion, she turned away, unable to control her joy.

"Pa!" he said. "It's good to see you, Pa!"

"Adam," Ben said, his words weakened by pain, "you look terrible . . . but it's good to see you, too."

Adam's nervous laughter collapsed into a release of passionate sentiment. Carrie watched as he quickly stepped aside and turned his back to the unfolding scene. She heard Hoss and Joe greet their father with equal, if not less-controlled fervor and though she heard Ben's voice in response, his words were lost amid her concern for Adam. With his arms folded tightly across his chest and his head hung heavily within his right hand, Carrie watched helplessly as Adam quietly shed tears.

_Should I go to him? It's what I want to do more than anything. But Adam is such a self-contained man . . . almost arrogant in the knowledge that he is in control of himself and any situation. Yet there he is, crying silently into his own chest, willing to hide his true emotions from the three people who would most understand, his brothers, and his father._

A quiet sob from Joe drew Carrie's attention. Immediately, she saw Hoss's arm wrap around Joe's shoulders. _If only Adam could allow someone to . . . Doesn't he realize there's no shame in vulnerability? Why can't he let someone inside his shell, inside that heart that I know is bigger than all outdoors? Why can't he . . . _Carrie felt a stab in her chest, her heart bracing itself for the blow she'd known was coming. _Mercy. He needs Mercy._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The kitchen air was thick with the sweet smell of cinnamon as the last of the cookies transformed from dough to treats.

"I still can't quite believe that I got the job!" Mercy said, as she removed the final tray from the stove.

"Of course, you did, my dear," Mrs. Brighton remarked. "You will undoubtedly be the finest teacher Virginia City has known. Isn't that right, children?"

Everyone chimed in with their congratulations and votes of confidence. Mercy, embarrassed by the abundance of praise, quickly changed the subject and unknowingly gave Alyssa a reason to leave and head for the Ponderosa.

"Well," Mercy announced, "now that these delicious cookies are finished, I think we should all celebrate with a little taste! But first, we must clean up Mrs. Brighton's kitchen."

"I can wahs-a bowl," Mary screeched, "if somebody helps me weach a basin!"

"And I'll sweep the floor," Danny said. "I just need a broom!"

Mrs. Brighton smiled. "With so many helpers, we'll be tasting those cookies before you know it!"

"Uh, Mrs. Brighton," Alyssa said, "I was planning on visiting Carrie out at the ranch, so I'd be happy to take some cookies to the family like you mentioned earlier."

"That would be wonderful!" Mrs. Brighton said. "It will save me a trip in the buggy!"

A short while later, the cookies were packed, the kitchen cleaned, and before long, Alyssa was out the door. She tucked the baked treats safely into her saddle bag and sprung without effort onto Twinkle's back. As she clicked the command to back up, she suddenly remembered she'd left her bag inside the boarding house. By the time she reached the front porch, Mrs. Brighton, Mary, and Danny were settling in on the squeaky old porch swing with their cookies and three glasses of milk.

"I forgot my bag," Alyssa said.

"Land sakes, child," Mrs. Brighton said. "Some days you'd forget your feet if they weren't attached!"

Danny giggled and Mary followed suit, although she was too busy licking her cookie to even catch Mrs. Brighton's little joke.

Walking straight for her bag lying next to the settee in the parlor, Alyssa couldn't help but hear the voices coming from the kitchen.

"You know, AnnaLynn," Mercy was saying, "everything Mr. Adam told us about his father has been reinforced tenfold by the people in Virginia City. Mrs. Brighton thinks Mr. Cartwright hung the moon! And the reactions of those around me when he was shot in town, well, nearly everyone was very concerned for him and his sons."

There was silence for a moment, and Alyssa wondered if they'd used the back stairs or stepped outside.

"Miss Kinkead," AnnaLynn said, "you'll be telling Mr. Cartwright everything when you meet with him, right?"

"Yes, AnnaLynn. As difficult as it was after the fire to refrain from writing a letter or sending a telegram, I still contend that such horrific news should be delivered in person."

Even from the parlor, Alyssa heard the sadness reflected in Mercy's voice.

"And now that I'm here . . . that we're all here, it's time," Mercy said. "Prolonging the telling won't make it any easier to deliver . . . nor to accept. I only hope that I'll be forgiven the days of silence I've maintained since arriving in Virginia City."

"What'll you do if the Cartwrights don't, well, if they think they should have been told immediately, or at least when you first arrived?"

"Oh, AnnaLynn," Mercy cried, "please pray that doesn't happen. I did what I thought, and still do think, is the best thing. Soon, I'll be looking into the eyes of those Adam loved and telling them what a wonderful man he was, how he became a role model to the children at the orphanage, how he opened my heart when it was closed so tightly for so long, and how he lost his life trying to save the lives of others."

Alyssa felt anger rising within her.

"But, Miss Kinkead," AnnaLynn whispered, "you've kept those things a secret ever since the fire, and some people don't forgive secrets."

"I know, AnnaLynn. I'm not proud of holding this information from the Cartwrights. But you're old enough to understand how details and so-called facts can become distorted and confused, even if no malice exists. A prime example is that newspaper from that little town near the orphanage."

"Macedon," AnnaLynn said softly. "I remember."

"The orphanage was isolated on that mountain. No towns close nearby. No help when . . ." Mercy's voice cracked and Alyssa felt the pain coming from the next room, "when the fire started. No help for Adam."

Again, a thick silence filled the parlor. Alyssa shook her head and started to step toward the doorway.

"And then," Mercy continued, "the reporter in Macedon writes that there were five deaths in the fire! Five! If he'd bothered to come up the mountain and talk to any of us, he'd have known that we made it out, but Adam . . . Can you imagine someone reporting 'facts' without even questioning anyone who was there? That's why, for Adam, I have to tell his family in person. I was there and I know the facts. And as for the Cartwrights not forgiving me keeping this a secret . . . AnnaLynn, sometimes, secrets are meant to protect those we care about. And I do care about Adam's family. Maybe even more than I realized."

Moved to tears by what she'd overheard, Alyssa grabbed her bag, rushed outside and bade Mrs. Brighton, Danny, and a cookie-faced Mary goodbye. Instantly, she and Twinkle disappeared down the street, heading once again for the Ponderosa.


	33. Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

"Ain't that right, Carrie?" Hoss asked.

"I'm sorry, Hoss," Carrie said, jolted from her thoughts. "I didn't hear your question." Her face flushed with reproach. _I should have been paying attention to Mr. Cartwright, not Adam._

Hoss smiled. "I said it's a good thing Pa's a good listener, 'cause if he behaves his self 'n' minds what you tell him, he'll be outta that bed in no time!"

"I agree wholeheartedly, Hoss," Carrie replied, reassured by Ben's warm smile and the return of the twinkle that had always drawn Carrie to his fatherly eyes. "And that part about minding me goes for all four of you, as well! And at this moment, it means limiting this visit to another five minutes, then skedaddling out of here so your father can get some rest!"

When the unison "Yes, ma'am" came as a reply, Carrie grinned at the distinct inclusion of Adam's baritone voice. Without so much as a glance, she knew he'd once again managed to harness that which left him open to heartache and lock it safely away to fester until another time.

"Hop Sing go now. Make special supper to celebrate. Mr. Cartwright, Hop Sing very happy to see you awake."

The bow of respect made Ben smile and before anyone could speak, Hop Sing had scurried out of the room. Moments later, the chimes of the stately grandfather clock rang the hour, echoing throughout the house.

"All right, gentlemen," Carrie announced in her most persuasive tone, "it's time you were going. I have bandages to change and your father has had enough excitement." As the room emptied, Carrie turned to see Adam, intending to help with the dressing of Ben's wound, draping several clean strips of cloth over the edge of the bed.

"Hoss, you will stay and help me, won't you?" Carrie asked, hoping no one would notice what she'd chosen to ignore. "And Adam, could I trouble you for a pot of my favorite tea? You remember how I like mine?"

"Of course, Carrie, and I'd be glad to," Adam said as he offered the remainder of the strips to Hoss before heading to the kitchen.

Hoss closed the bedroom door and returned to the task at hand, laying four more strips of cloth into position. He heard Carrie's lilting voice comforting his father, preparing him for what would be the most movement he'd attempted since the shooting. _She shore is somethin'. But I cain't help but wonder why she asked me ta stay 'n' help instead of Adam._

"Ready, Hoss?" Carrie asked.

Hoss nodded and began the task of supporting his father's weight, holding him upright as Carrie removed the wrappings covering the wound. When she lifted the bandage, Hoss winced as his father gasped in pain.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cartwright," Carrie said softly as she continued ministering to his father. "The bandage has to be changed to prevent infection, and I promise this whole process will become less and less painful as you heal."

By the time she'd completed her sentence, the soiled bandage had been replaced by a clean one and she'd already begun rewrapping Ben's chest. Hoss marveled at her efficiency and the gentleness of her touch as she brushed a stray lock of Ben's hair back into place. As they lowered Ben slowly against the pillows, he saw her connect with his father through her large, chocolate eyes. _She has such kind eyes. Pa seems more relaxed jist from lookin' at her. I know he must be hurtin' somethin' awful but . . . She jist has a way about her that puts a body at ease._

Ben blinked slowly as a smile tugged on his lips. "Thank y . . ."

Carrie placed a gentle finger on Ben's lips. "Shh. You mustn't exert yourself, Mr. Cartwright. And that's an order!"

As she pulled the blanket up to Ben's shoulders, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Carrie caressed his forehead with her fingertips, her furrowed brow catching Hoss's gaze.

"Somethin' wrong?" Hoss asked, his face panicked, his voice a mere whisper.

"No, Hoss," Carrie replied. "I think your father's doing very well. I guess I'm just a little tired, that's all." _Please, let them forgive me when this is all over!_

"You've done so much already, Carrie, and I cain't thank you enough. And that goes for Joe 'n' Adam, too," Hoss said, his genuine smile lighting the room. "You do look a might tired, if ya don't mind me sayin' so. Would you like me ta spell ya fer a bit?"

Hoss's grin spread as Carrie returned his smile and insisted that she stay with Ben. Not wanting to take no for an answer, he was able to persuade her to agree to join the family downstairs for the dinner meal, providing that one of the others stayed with Ben. _I know she's gonna do everything she can fer Pa. And a pretty little gal fussin' over him's jist what he needs ta keep him fightin' ta get stronger. I jist wonder if ole Adam knows what he's missin'. Seems ta me that a gal like Carrie might jist be the remedy fer what he's lost. It's jist like Pa says . . . "Keep a place fer her in yer heart"._

Hoss's thoughts weighed heavily in his mind as he headed for the staircase. Seconds later, a mid-stair collision was barely avoided as Hoss, lost in the throes of reflection and Joe, concentrating on balancing the tray of tea, tried to pass on the landing.

"Watch it, Little Joe!" Hoss said.

Whispering, Joe replied, "You watch it!"

Hoss chortled, grasped Joe's shoulder and furrowed his brow. "Why are you bringing Carrie's tea instead o' Adam?"

"'Cause he asked me to," Joe answered. "Said something about needing the logbook from the bunk house so's he could work on the ledgers. Besides, what difference does it make who brings the tea?"

Hoss shrugged his shoulders. "I jist figured . . . Joe, you reckon there's still anything . . . ya know . . . between Carrie 'n' Adam?"

Joe stared down at the tray. "I don't think so, Hoss," Joe said. "I mean, his time with Carr, well, that was a long time ago. I'm pretty sure Adam isn't over loving Mercy. He gets that look in his eyes . . . you know the one . . . like he's lost someplace, miles away. The same look Pa gets when he's rememberin'. One minute, he seems happy in that place and the next . . ."

"And the next," Hoss interrupted, "the look in his eyes jist 'bout breaks yer heart."

"Yeah."

"That's why I was hopin'," Hoss paused a moment, "I was wishin' Adam could find some happiness again. He jist ain't been the same since he returned. I know he's tryin', but . . ."

"C'mon, Hoss," Joe said. "Adam can't even go into Virginia City without bracing himself for staring and whispering. And around here . . . we're doing all we can, but sometimes, it feels like the silence is gonna swallow us whole! Adam's just not back to his old self yet."

"Yer right about that, Little Brother," Hoss chuckled. "Guess he jist needs more time 's all."

Joe nodded. "I'd best get this tea up to Carrie. Wouldn't want her wondering what's keeping me."

Hoss smiled. "A bit afraid o' the lil gal after all, huh Joe?"

"I'm simply trying to make her as comfortable as possible," Joe insisted. "After all, she's taking care of Pa, and we both know what that's like!" Joe sauntered up the remaining stairs, his concentration on balancing the tray fading as he thought of the tenderness Carrie had shown his father over the past few days. He smiled, not quite knowing why. When he reached the threshold of his father's bedroom, Joe tidied the tray and its contents. He hesitated, pondering his newfound desire to please his long-time friend. The more he thought about it, the wider his smile grew.


	34. Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

Alyssa hesitated on the porch of the Ponderosa's house. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and knocked on the large, pine door. Moments later, she heard the click of the latch.

"Hello, Mr. Cartwright."

"Well, howdee to you to, Miss Alyssa," Hoss said. "And the name is 'Hoss'. Now, what kin I do fer ya?"

"I'd like to see Carrie, if I may, Mr., I mean, Hoss."

"Why shore ya can. C'mon in." Hoss led Alyssa inside, leaving her comfortable on the settee while he climbed the stairs to his father's room. He found Carrie curled up in the chair in the corner, her legs tucked to the side, sipping her tea. He was nearly upon her before she snapped out of her thoughts.

"Carrie, Miss Alyssa's downstairs," Hoss said. "She'd like ta see ya."

"Oh, Hoss, would you mind?" Carrie asked, nodding toward his sleeping father.

"'Course not," Hoss smiled. "You go 'n' have a nice visit. I'll stay right here with Pa."

"And . . ."

"And I'll call you if he needs anything. I promise."

Carrie placed her tea cup and saucer gently on the side table. She bounced from the chair, touched Hoss tenderly on his shoulder, and placed a light kiss on his left cheek.

As he watched her practically gallop for the door, he scrunched his nose, blushed, and slid a finger lightly across his cheek.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As they made their way out the back door, Carrie whispered, "Hoss is with Mr. Cartwright and Joe's gone out to the corral. That's where Adam is, too."

"What about Hop Sing?" Alyssa asked.

"Hop Sing won't leave the house," Carrie assured. "He knows Hoss is with Mr. Cartwright, but he'll stay within earshot just in case."

"So, it's okay to talk out here?" Alyssa asked, surveying the little garden as she spoke.

"Yeah, it's okay," Carrie confirmed as the young women took a seat on the old, wooden bench. "Now, what brings you all the way out here?"

Alyssa enlightened Carrie with more details and supposes and what-ifs than Carrie could wrap her head around.

"Let me get this straight," Carrie said, satisfying their need for privacy by peering around the garden. "AnnaLynn is here in Virginia City. So none of the children died in the fire?"

"That's right," Alyssa said.

"Mercy went in and searched upstairs for the children. She found no one and on her way back downstairs, she fell and landed on a step, unconscious. Meanwhile, Adam rushed in and assumed the children would be upstairs. So, he starts up, but trips over something. There's so much smoke, his vision is almost gone, so he continues up the stairs, not knowing he'd tripped over an unconscious Mercy!"

"If only he'd known!" Alyssa wished aloud.

Carrie shook her head. "Then Mercy comes to and manages to make her way to the kitchen where she eventually found the children hiding between the stove and a buffet?"

Alyssa nodded. "That's what they said!"

"Then they managed to escape through the front of the house." Carrie rose, lowered her voice, and began pacing. "Meanwhile, Adam searches upstairs, eventually comes back down, and one of the steps gives way. Now Adam is hurt, unconscious, and the fire is growing rapidly! And Mercy is outside with all of the children gathered safely around her, knowing Adam could be . . ."

Alyssa reached for Carrie's hand, pulling her back down onto the bench. "It must have been awful for her and the children," Alyssa cried. "Waiting for Adam to come back out. Watching and waiting. And . . . nothing."

Carrie shuddered, her eyes pooling. "Adam wakes up. He's hurt his leg and his head and his shirt is on fire. But still, he searches." She hugged her arms tightly, her mind wondering what it must feel like to have burns like Adam's, her heart shoving those thoughts aside, unable to face the horror. "He makes it to the kitchen. God, Alyssa, that's where they were! If only he'd gone there first!"

Alyssa shook her head and clasped Carrie's hands in hers. "But he didn't," Alyssa continued. "And when the fire spread, one of the beams fell from the ceiling, and Adam was trapped."

Mercy shivered. "And he really doesn't know how, but he managed to crawl out the back door and into the woods, unseen by everyone else there. How he managed to get so far from the house, we'll never know! And Alyssa, you and I are the only ones who know all of this! I mean, the Cartwrights know what Adam has told them, but they know nothing of what happened with Mercy and the children."

"And Mercy knows nothing of what little Adam remembers."

"But I don't understand," Carrie said, her voice cracking under the burden. "When Adam got his memory back, why did he assume that they had all died? Why . . ."

Alyssa jumped to her feet. "Oh my goodness, I forgot something," she shouted.

"Shh!" Carrie reprimanded.

Alyssa returned to the bench, scooting so close to Carrie that she was nearly on her lap. "Mercy said something about a newspaper in the town of . . . What was it? . . . Oh, yeah, Macedon. Isn't that . . ."

"That's where Adam was being held! I remember that name!" Carrie screeched.

"Shh!" Alyssa scolded before continuing. "Mercy said that the headlines were all wrong. That it reported that two adults had gone into the flames to search for three children and all had perished in the fire!"

"That must be why Adam assumed they died!" Carrie said. "Because the newspaper in Macedon said so."

Except for the chirping of several nearby birds, the garden suddenly became silent. Details and unanswered questions agitated inside the heads of both young women as they explored possibilities and sought out direction.

"Doctor Martin comes day after tomorrow to check on Mr. Cartwright," Carrie said, her decision clearly made. "As long as he says Mr. Cartwright is improving," Carrie looked into Alyssa's eyes, "I'm gonna tell him everything. If anyone will know the right thing to do, it's Adam's pa."

Alyssa smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that. And Carrie, maybe I should be there when you tell him. Just so the stuff about Mercy and the children comes from the one who actually heard it."

"I was hoping you'd be with me," Carrie said. "Now, you have to come to the ranch when Doc Martin does. Day after tomorrow."

Alyssa nodded. "What about Adam, Hoss, and Joe?" she asked. "Should they all hear it at the same time?"

Carrie shook her head. "Doc Martin says he doesn't know much about what happened when Adam lost his memory. I think it's best if we let the rest of the Cartwrights and the doc decide what and when to tell Adam."


	35. Chapter 35

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

Forty-eight hours had passed since Ben first opened his eyes. His bandages, having been changed four times, continued to prevent infection and as Carrie had promised, his pain was lessening. Finally able to tolerate more than a few spoonfuls of broth at a time, his color had improved and the light in his eyes was quickly blossoming into the familiar beacon Carrie adored. Sleep still hoarded the majority of his days and nights, but frequent conversations with his sons had worked miracles for Ben, as well as his sons. Gradually, their anxieties lessened and restful sleep came more easily.

Although far from the usual daily routine for the Cartwright household, things were slowly returning to normal. Carrie and Ben were never left alone at the house, but Adam, Hoss, and Joe felt much more at ease when leaving the main house for their much neglected chores.

That morning, Hop Sing and Hoss took the buckboard into Virginia City for some badly needed supplies while Adam rode off to spend the morning rounding up strays. Joe busied himself in the barn repairing a worn wagon wheel and upstairs, Ben Cartwright stirred uncomfortably in his bed.

Since Alyssa's visit two days earlier, thoughts of Doctor Martin's impending visit had preoccupied Carrie, leaving her restless, but Ben's obvious frustration temporarily erased all other concerns from her mind. "Mr. Cartwright, I think I know what will help ease your discomfort. I'll call for Joe," Carrie agreed. "But first, let me gather some more pillows from the spare bedroom across the hall. I'll be right back."

As Carrie made her way into the hallway, Ben's irritation got the best of him. "Call for Joe!" he mumbled. "When the day arrives that I am too old and feeble to pull myself up to a sitting position . . . All of this mollycoddling and constant supervision . . . You'd think I was a child who wouldn't know better than to ._ . . _Ahh!" Ben gasped as his head slumped back against his pillow, and he cursed himself for failing at such a simple task._ If I opened this dadburned wound, I'll never hear the end of it! _He struggled to right himself before Carrie returned to his room._ If those boys of mine find out I didn't listen to Carrie, I'll be smothered until I heal, that's for sure. And if Carrie finds out . . ._

"Did you call for me, Mr. Cartwright?"

Ben swallowed hard. "No, dear."

"I could have sworn I heard . . . Oh, never mind. I found some larger pillows and as soon as I call for Joe, we can . . ." Carrie jumped when a shadow appeared in the bedroom doorway.

"'Scuse me, Miss Baker. Mr. Cartwright," Walter said. "Little Joe done sent me up here ta fetch somethin' from his bedroom, 'n' I didn't wanna cause ya no reason ta fear by jist walkin' by in the hallway, so's I jist fig'red I'd poke ma head in 'n' say how'da do."

Carrie smiled at the old man. He'd been a ranch hand with the Cartwrights since she visited as a young girl and he'd always been the sweetest one on the ranch. "Thank you, Walter," Carrie cooed. "You are thoughtful, as always. Oh, Walter, would you mind helping Mr. Cartwright with something?"

Walter blushed. "Of course, Miss Baker. Anything you . . . er, I mean Mr. Cartwright needs."

Under Carrie's watchful scrutiny, she and Walter raised Ben up, propped pillows behind his back and neck, and then carefully lowered him onto the soft pile.

"He's hurting," Carrie thought. "I can see it in his eyes . . . and his pride is keeping him from letting on. Like son, like father!"

As Carrie and Walter settled their patient, she noticed that the sheets had slithered down to Ben's waist, exposing his bandaged chest. The dressing appeared to be sound, but Ben's furrowed brow was cause for concern. Carrie lifted the covers and gently tucked them into place before thanking Walter and sending him on his way.

"Mr. Cartwright, is it your back or your gunshot wound?" Carrie asked, her eyes riveted to his.

Ben glared up at Carrie. _Blasted young thing can read me like one of Joe's dime novels!_ Ben felt his cheeks warm with the spreading blush. He lowered his head slightly and looked up at Carrie with guilty eyes. "Both, I'm afraid."

"Thank you for being honest," Carrie said as she took a seat next to the bed. Trying, with success, to appear as formidable as possible, she continued. "Would you care to tell me about it?"

Ben smiled sheepishly._ Good thing those sons of mine aren't around. _"My back is bothering me," Ben admitted, "no doubt because of being in this bed for so many days."

Carrie leaned forward, ever so slightly, her eyes encouraging Ben to fess up to the entire story.

"I'm in trouble now," Ben thought.

Taking pity on the man she loved like a father, Carrie relaxed her stature and let him off the hook. "I know that your wound is still causing discomfort. You tried to sit up on your own while I was out of the room, didn't you?"

"Carrie!" Joe whined as he walked into his father's bedroom. He set the tray of tea atop the dresser and continued. "Don't allow him to bully you into letting him do more than he should be doing!"

Before Ben could defend being propped up like a weak, dainty lady with so many billowy, cushioned pillows, Carrie stood from her chair, walked to the tray, and retrieved the bowl of warm broth.

"Joseph," Ben began, "don't you think . . ."

"Joe," Carrie interrupted, "I assure you, your father has not intimidated, threatened, nor sweet-talked me into allowing him to do anything he isn't ready to do." Carrie returned to her chair and held the bowl close to Ben's chest.

Once again, Ben attempted to defend himself. "Joe, I'm recov . . ."

"Not that your father isn't more than capable of sweet-talking me into just about anything," Carrie interrupted. "He is quite charming. Now I know without a doubt where you and your brothers get your appeal!"

Ben reached for the spoon that Carrie proffered and helped himself to a slurp of broth.

"But, Carr," Joe interposed, "should he be sitting up already? He had a bullet in him just a few . . ."

Clearly annoyed by Joe's questions, Carrie swung the bowl to the right, leaving Ben holding an empty spoon. "Joe, I am perfectly aware of your father's condition. And when you and your brothers agreed to let me care for him, you accepted that I would do nothing but my best to see to his speedy recovery and . . ."

"Now, both of you . . . ," Ben growled softly, immediately regretting his failed attempt to raise his voice as a wave of pain shot through his abdomen.

Carrie turned to Ben and, once again, suspended the bowl near his chest. Ben glared at her, and then dipped the spoon into the warm liquid.

"I'm not questioning your motives, Carr," Joe assured, "I just wanna be sure he's up to . . . I mean, should he be feeding himself already?"

Offended by Joe's misgivings, Carrie maneuvered the bowl once again. This time, Ben lost his grip on the spoon as it rested in the bowl.

"Joe Cartwright," Carrie said, sounding much like a parent fighting to maintain a civil tongue, "if you want to get someone else to help your father . . ."

"Will the two of you stop talking about me as if I'm not in the room?" Ben begged, exasperation resounding as he once again attempted to raise his voice.

Startled, Carrie dropped the bowl of broth, sending its contents splattering across the rug. The spoon, shiny and dripping with soup, landed squarely on Joe's left boot.

Shock was followed by an intense desire to giggle. Within seconds, Joe's contagious chortle as he hurriedly snatched a heavy cloth napkin from the tray was joined by Carrie's as she gathered the bowl and spoon from the floor. When Joe bent to tend to sopping up the broth, he and Carrie bumped heads, sending Carrie toppling backwards, making a hard and most unfeminine landing squarely on her bottom.

Joe was torn between laughing and helping a lady in distress. He reached for Carrie, sliding his arm around her waist. His action only served to make matter worse when he grasped her waist at the exact spot where she was the most ticklish.

Carrie grabbed Joe's hand and for a brief moment, the two sat on the floor, hand in hand, both feeling something that had never been there before.

With his two 'nurses' on the floor, convulsing in laughter, Ben shook his head and mustered the resolve necessary to contain his own amusement. He failed as a grin, the first since the shooting, crept across his lips.

Downstairs, Adam, Hoss, and Hop Sing had returned in time for lunch and were carrying supplies through the living room when they heard the thud of Carrie's landing. Hoss and Adam raced heavily up the stairs, followed closely behind by Hop Sing. When the three reached the doorway, a brief battle of right-of-way took place before Hoss entered, followed by Adam and Hop Sing. Seeing the scuffle at the door, Joe rolled on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest as Carrie, wiping tears from her eyes, pushed herself to a sitting position.

Hoss, Adam, and Hop Sing studied the scene. Adam, one arm folded across his chest, the other reaching to scratch the back of his head, was the first to crack a smile.

"I'm not sure I wanna know."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Much to Hop Sing's displeasure, Adam, Hoss, Joe, and Carrie chose to have their lunch in Ben's room. The antics with the spoon had worked wonders for Ben and Carrie hoped that spending time with the family all together would help even more - not just Ben, but all of the Cartwrights, for Carrie had taken it upon herself to do everything she could to make them all happy.

As the conversation turned to the doings of the afternoon, Hop Sing announced the arrival of John Masters, foreman of the crew working the Cartwright's latest lumber contract.

"Excuse me, Mr. Cartwright," John said, "I'm sorry to interrupt."

"That's quite alright," Ben answered.

"First, Mr. Cartwright, let me say it's good to see you recovering so quickly. The men on the mountain will be glad for that bit of news when I return."

Ben nodded and smiled at John.

"He's getting worn out," Carrie thought. "Maybe today won't be the day."

John explained to the Cartwrights the reason for his sudden visit - there was trouble with the flume on the mountain and, left unchecked, their contract could be jeopardized. Without question, Ben suggested that Adam return with John to the site, staying as long as needed to insure the contract's fulfillment.

"But, Pa," Adam insisted, only to be cut short by Hoss.

"Adam, you're the logical one ta go," Hoss said. "You was the one that negotiated the deal 'n' besides, you know a couple o' them lumberjacks from the last job. Fer some reason, they liked you more 'n me 'n' Joe."

Adam set out to disagree, only to be interrupted again, this time by Joe.

"He's right, Adam," Joe added. "That contract's the biggest one we've ever had. We can't disappoint them."

Carrie, seeing an obvious opportunity, spoke up even though the guilt of her deception had already begun making her stomach roil.

"Adam," she said, her voice filled with assurance, "not only will Joe, Hoss, and Hop Sing be here with your pa, but I'll be here, too. I'll do everything I can for him." _Damn it, Carrie! Now you're out and out lying! You're about to deliver news that could upset Mr. Cartwright. What's wrong with you?_

The shame of the secret she'd been keeping suddenly washed over her. The remainder of the conversation faded to a faint hum as she walked to the open bedroom window and the fresh air she hoped would settle her stomach. She leaned against the sill, closed her eyes and inhaled the warm breeze drifting into the room. A sudden, strong puff of air caressed several light wisps of her hair and she breathed in an unexpected fragrance - roses. She opened her eyes and peered across the front yard for the source. Near the hitching post just off the front of the house stood several bushes abundant with blooms. Yellow roses. And Carrie smiled, welcoming the pending confession and the thought that Adam would soon be reunited with Mercy and the children.


	36. Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

On his way to the Ponderosa, Paul Martin passed Adam riding away from the ranch house. Adam explained that he'd be gone for a few days, assured the doctor that his brothers, Hop Sing, and Carrie would be taking good care of his father, and then rode off toward the lumber camp high on the eastern ridge of Lake Tahoe.

Upon his arrival, Hop Sing greeted the doctor and escorted him to Ben's room, where Paul immediately asked for privacy with his patient. He followed Hoss, Joe, Carrie, and Hop Sing to the door and closed it tightly behind them.

"Why do you suppose he made us all leave?" Joe asked as they trudged down the staircase. "Even you, Carrie?"

Hoss lowered himself into the stiff-backed blue chair. "Maybe the doc kin tell there's somethin' wrong?"

Joe sat on the edge of the hearth, propped one foot atop the table, lowered his chin into his hand and rested his elbows on his knee.

Hop Sing fidgeted, balancing his weight on one leg and then the other.

"Hop Sing make coffee," he announced, his face showing the same worry as Hoss's and Joe's. "No worries. Hop Sing make coffee."

Carrie looked from one brother to the other. Before taking a seat on the hearth next to Joe, she gave his foot a tap.

Obediently, Joe slid his foot from the table.

"I think I can tell you why he asked us all to leave," she offered.

Hoss scooted himself to the edge of his seat and Joe lifted his eyes to meet Carrie's.

"Now I know what a watched pot feels like!" she mused, her attempt at humor lost to the worried brothers.

"Your father is much, much better," Carrie said. "Doctor Martin will tell you that, I'm sure. His recovery has been remarkable, but slower, I believe, than you'd like. Am I right?"

Hoss and Joe nodded.

"Doctor Martin explained that the bullet caused severe internal damage. We can monitor the healing process on the outside and with your help, and that of Hop Sing, we've managed to avoid infection. But the repairs healing on the inside are a different story. That's what Doc Martin is assessing right now," Carrie explained, hoping to calm their fears. "I don't believe that he will have anything but good news to share when he's through. You must remember, I know your father pretty well, and try as he might, he can't pull the wool over my eyes as often as he thinks he can!"

Hoss smiled, recalling a conversation they'd had recently about just that. Joe, however, remained troubled, unconvinced of his father's progress.

Carrie reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his. "I know I'm not always right, Joe, but this time, I am."

"You should listen to her, Little Joe," Paul said as he descended the stairs. "She's absolutely right. Your father is making a full and rather surprising recovery. Turns out his wonderful nurse is the best medicine!"

Carrie felt the tension release in Joe's hand. Slowly, he looked into her eyes and smiled. His gaze disturbed her - she couldn't seem to look away, nor, she found, did she want to. Little by little, she slid her hand free of his.

"I don't know how we'll ever be able ta thank you, Carrie," Hoss said.

"The same goes for me!" Paul added. "Anyone who can manage to keep Ben Cartwright from doing more than he should deserves the moon in my book!"

"Are you sayin' our Pa is stubborn?" Hoss asked as innocently as he could.

Laughter released the remaining tension in the room, but did nothing to remove the blush Carrie still felt in her cheeks.

Paul squeezed Hoss's shoulder. "As stubborn as Old McHenry's mule!"

"Wonder who that could be?" Joe asked before anyone else even heard the horse gallop into the yard.

Suddenly nauseous, Carrie's eyes widened and her hands began to shake. _I think I know. And I'm not sure I'm ready for this!_

The knock on the door seemed hesitant and when Joe swung it open, he was met by Alyssa. The young girl jumped like a frightened kitten.

"Alyssa! Twice in one week! C'mon in!" Joe said as he ushered her inside and closed the door behind her.

The sound of the hinges creaking and the latch taking hold made Alyssa shudder. _Must be what it feels like when they lock the jail cell . . ._

"Lyss? Honey, you okay?" Joe asked, her ashen pallor giving rise for concern. "Something wrong?"

Alyssa turned pleading eyes toward an obviously anxious Carrie.

"Oh, Lordy," Carrie groaned in an exhale of breath filled with fear and guilt. "Might as well be now as never."

Joe and Hoss shared a glance and Doctor Martin shrugged his shoulders when the Cartwrights looked to him for insight.

"I have something to tell you," Carrie said, her voice already trembling. "All of you. And Doctor Martin, if you would, please, I'd ask that you stay for the telling."

"What's this all about, Carrie?" Hoss questioned, realizing that whatever this 'telling' was, it was eating both Carrie and Alyssa up inside.

Carrie looked to Alyssa for strength. "Mr. Cartwright," she said, turning top face Hoss, "I mean your pa, needs to hear this, too."

Hoss looked at Joe and shrugged his shoulders.

"Please, can we go upstairs? I need to do this while I still have the courage." Carrie turned on her heels and marched up the stairs. Alyssa fell in behind her and after more glances and shrugs, Hoss, Joe, and Paul followed suit.


	37. Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

The fact that the majority of the confused faces in his suddenly crowded bedroom matched his own did nothing to ease Ben Cartwright's mind. If he was to take Paul Martin for his word, he was recovering surprisingly quickly and although his energy and strength were frustratingly slow to return, Ben knew he was well on his way to a complete recovery. _What is everyone doing here? Is there something more that Paul hasn't yet told me?_

"Mr. Cartwright, Hoss, Joe, Doctor Martin," Carrie started, "there's something I need to tell you. Something quite important."

Ben glanced at each of his two sons and received identical shrugs. Paul's expression was nothing if not confused.

To Carrie, Ben's over-sized bedroom had never before resembled a cell. Although there were two opened windows and a wide doorway left completely ajar she felt trapped, unable to fill her lungs with anything other than the self-imposed essence of guilt.

Ben watched carefully as Carrie captured one deep breath, held it inside for a moment, and then exhaled as she launched into the much-anticipated tale.

"Mr. Cartwright, Hoss, Joe . . . there's something about the night of the orphanage fire that Adam doesn't know."

No one in the room spoke. In fact, no one moved.

Carrie leaned against the wall near one of the opened windows, hoping that the fresh air billowing into the room might help her roiling stomach. Instead, she breathed in the scent of roses and the flutters inside her calmed immediately. "That night, when Adam managed, God knows how, to crawl out of the back of the burning building and into the woods, he didn't know . . . ," Carrie paused and looked at Alyssa, who nodded her support and reached for her best friend's hand, "he didn't know that Mercy and the children had made it out of the building - alive."

For Ben, the next few seconds blurred like an unending nightmare.

"What?" Hoss whispered, his face contorted with confusion.

"What?" Joe uttered, his voice duetting with Hoss's, his shocked face frozen in the moment. Slowly, he reached for the tall poster on the end of his father's bed then lowered himself gently onto the mattress.

Doctor Martin searched Alyssa's face for confirmation of Carrie's declaration before stepping closer to Ben's bedside. And Ben, his face wearing a mask of disbelief, painfully pushed himself higher atop his array of pillows.

"Ben," Paul admonished, "take it easy!" He offered Ben his arm and worked to situate his friend as comfortably as possible before turning his scowl in Carrie's direction. "I don't know what this is, Carrie, and I'm obviously not going to be able to stop whatever it is you've started," Paul scolded, "but I'll be damned if I'm gonna stand by and let this . . . this 'news' harm my patient! Now Ben, you stay put."

Ben ignored Paul's commands and directed his full attention on Carrie Baker. He gathered himself, and when he finally spoke, his words were even-tempered and calculating, and his voice betrayed his internal chaos.

"And how do you know this, Carrie?"

"I found out a few days ago when . . . ," Carrie exhaled, "when I met Mercy. Here. In Virginia City."

This time, there were no breathy whispers.

"She's here?" Hoss shrieked, his voice cracking.

"She's really alive? And you've known it for days?" Joe yelled as he strode across the room, his eyes blazing.

Already pressed against the window frame, Carrie had no place to go except inches away from Joe's angry face.

"Joseph!" Ben exclaimed, pain surging from his diaphragm into his chest. "Everyone, just calm down. Let Carrie finish!"

Joe rubbed the back of his neck and placed a world of distance between Carrie and himself.

"You met her?" Ben asked. "Here in Virginia City?"

Carrie nodded and Ben covered his wound as he tried to sit forward.

"Ben . . ." Paul said.

Carrie instinctively reached for Ben's arm, thought better of it, and took several steps away from the bed. "Let me start at the beginning," Carrie said, clearing her throat. "A few days ago, a young woman and two children arrived on the stage. They were directed to Aunt Mazie's . . . I mean Mrs. Brighton's boarding house. The children were there one afternoon when Alyssa and I went to visit Mrs. Brighton."

Ben, his mind and pulse racing, sifted through the details Adam had shared of his time at the orphanage.

"There were three children killed in that fire," Ben said. "Three children and one woman."

"That's right, Carrie," Hoss added.

Joe, his temper masking his true emotions, snapped at Carrie. "Their names were Danny, Mary, and AnnaLynn!"

Carrie stood firm. "I know, Joe. And that day, at Mrs. Brighton's, Alyssa and I met Danny and Mary."

Hoss's hands pressed against his thighs. He turned slowly toward Alyssa and she nodded timidly at his piercing, blue eyes.

Ben swallowed hard. Frustrated with the vulnerability that accompanies lying helpless in a bed, he straightened his back, pushing his hands against the mattress. He uttered no sound, but his face was painted with delicate shades pain. _If this is true, my son has spent months needlessly mourning their loss. He lost weeks of his life under a veil of false beliefs. How could anyone stand by and let someone believe such a lie?_ Ben glared at Carrie, his eyes darkened beyond their usual color, shining black and cold as the night sky. "Go on," was all he said.

"Well, I met Miss Kinkead later, at the general store in town," Carrie said. "I swear, Mr. Cartwright, I didn't know who she was. Mrs. Brighton introduced her to me as 'Miss Kinkead'. I never knew the last name of the woman from the fire. I swear, I didn't know it was her!"

Ben's body ached. His mind sent out orders to his legs and feet, _Pace! You'll feel more in control if you could just pace!_ He clenched his jaw. _How could she come here, to Virginia City? To Adam's home town? And not come to Adam himself?_

"I didn't know . . . until someone told me. Alyssa and me," Carrie said.

Joe raised himself slowly from the edge of his father's bed. "Who told you, Carrie?"

Carrie fought back tears. "It was Stu. Stu Weaver."

"Stu Weaver?" Hoss spat. "Stu Weaver is a born liar, Carrie. You know that!"

"He'll do anything to cause trouble for anyone," Joe added, his temper rising again. "He hates all of us, especially Adam."

Hoss shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked toward Carrie. "Carrie, he's lyin'. That's jist one of the rotten things he does. Ya see, Stu used ta try his darndest ta git me mad enough ta fight 'im. Lookin' back, I guess he didn't hafta try too hard . . ."

Ben thought of how Stu had managed to draw Hoss into situations - situations that demanded Adam step in to fight. He remembered numerous occasions when the front door would open at the end of the school day and Hoss, slumped in a twisted mixture of humiliation and gratefulness, would lumber into the great room. Adam always followed, the ritual hanging-of-his-hat and gun belt giving precious extra moments for composure. Each time Ben knew the gist of what had occurred simply from Hoss's posture. Each time he was both proud and frightened by his eldest son's bravery as well as his fierce pledge to protect his younger brother. The thought that the man who'd delivered so many insults to Hoss and uncountable blows to Adam's face and ribs could now be plotting to hurt his family once again left Ben smoldering inside.

"Carrie, Stu will say anything when he's drunk," Joe said, "which is most of the time, and if he thinks he can . . ."

"Joe!" Carrie interrupted. "Joe, it's her. There's no question. It is Mercy, and Danny, and Mary. And AnnaLynn just arrived two days ago. They're all alive and well and in Virginia City."

Alyssa summoned every ounce of strength in her and stepped out of the shadows of the room. "Mr. Cartwright, I heard Mercy speaking with AnnaLynn," Alyssa whispered. "I was at Mrs. Brighton's, and they were baking cookies. You know, the ones I brought the other day. And, well, at one point, I overheard them."

"You were eavesdropping!" Joe said.

"Joseph!" Ben shouted, immediately regretting his outburst.

Alyssa jolted at the sound of Ben's voice.

"Let her finish," Ben said, nodding to Alyssa.

"Well," Alyssa continued, "it seems that Mercy came here to Virginia City to tell you all what happened to Adam - that he's, well, dead. She thinks he is! She said she feels that she owes it to you to tell you in person."

Ben thought of a night not so long ago, when he and Adam had sat together on the porch, enjoying the warm, nighttime breeze. Adam had looked into the sky and sighed.

"Pa," Adam had said, "May I ask you something . . . personal?"

"Of course, son."

Adam stood, his hands shoved into his pockets - a gesture Ben hadn't seen since Adam's teen-aged years. He walked off the porch and craned his neck at the sky.

"Pa, you've loved and lost three wives. And even though you don't have a place to visit for my mother or Inger, you . . . well . . . excuse me for being crude, but at the time, you had something tangible to mourn. Do you know what I mean?"

Ben nodded as he slipped his pipe from between his teeth. "Yes, son. I understand," Ben assured. "I was with your mother and Inger and Marie when they took their final breaths. I visit Marie's grave often, so I have a physical place to mourn. I'm not ashamed to tell you that I also mourn your mother and Inger at Marie's grave. It's a place to speak to them all."

"Exactly," Adam said, his eyes still cast into the sparkling void. "And I have nothing. I mean, I'm thankful to have no memory of Mercy suffering, but I have nothing tangible to mourn."

"Son," Ben said quietly, "you have your memories. Surely those must bring some comfort."

Adam lowered his head and turned toward the porch. "Most of the time," he said, "they do. But sometimes, I think I may turn around or enter a room and she'll be standing there, waiting for me. It's as if a part of me still denies that she died in that fire."

"She's even taking a job here," Carrie added, "as the new school teacher."

_The new school teacher . . . _The words snapped Ben from his memory as his youngest son spun to face him.

"Pa! That was her! It . . . it was them!" Joe hollered. "The day of the robbery, in Virginia City. You remember - the picture I found and the little blonde boy . . ."

"That's Danny!" Carrie screeched.

Ben looked confused.

"Pa," Joe reminded him, "we were standing near the café, and a woman, a beautiful woman, came up and said she'd overheard us saying Virginia City needed a new school teacher."

Ben nodded.

"And then," Joe said, "the shots rang out and I remember seeing the woman grab the boy and run for cover! Pa! We met her! That was Adam's Mercy!"


	38. Chapter 38

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Carrie fought to hold back the tears that stung her eyes. She'd spent the last thirty minutes ridding herself of secrets without reserve or consideration of consequences. She glanced at Alyssa, her only ally in a room full of people she truly cared for, and watched as her friend moved forward, took her arm, and led her to a nearby chair.

Unaware that she'd moved, let alone taken a seat, Carrie hung her head, her resolve crumbling under the silence. It was Hoss who broke the hush that had fallen over the room.

"How could you keep this to yourself?" Hoss asked, disappointment in his voice. "You know how much Adam's been hurtin'."

Alyssa spoke in Carrie's defense. "It's only been a few days," she cried.

"A few days?" Joe barked as he stepped toward Carrie. "A few days that Adam could have known the truth! A few days without him mourning Mercy and those children and thinking of them burning to death in that fire!" Joe stood rigid and tall, every fiber of muscle taut.

"I'm sorry, Joe," Carrie said, her voice strangled with regret.

"You're sorry!" Joe yelled. "Carrie, I can't believe . . ."

"Alright," Ben's even tone sounded cold and biting. He felt his pulse thumping against his chest. His every nerve seemed poised to spring into action. He'd managed, just barely, to control his anger towards Carrie as they'd all listened to her recollections of the past few days. The secret to his restraint came not from acceptance of her actions, but from the realization that no one's lives were about to be as affected by her actions as those of Adam, Mercy, and the children. _This is one hell of a time to be stuck in this bed! _He took a deep, painful breath. "What's been done is in the past," he continued. "Now is the time to come together and put things right." Ben watched Joe run his hand through his hair and step away from Carrie. "I want everyone to listen and listen good," Ben demanded, pausing until he had everyone's attention. "I want Miss Kinkead here, at the Ponderosa, as soon as possible. I want her to learn that Adam is alive from someone who will deliver the news with compassion and respect. I don't want her to learn of it in Virginia City."

Joe whirled around. "I'll go get her right now!"

Ben shook his head and pushed himself higher on his pillows. The action left him gasping as pain shot through his back.

"Ben . . ." Paul said as he reached for Ben's wrist. "You need to calm down . . ."

"Don't tell me to calm down, Paul!" Ben roared and winced at the strain on his chest.

Hoss and Joe were instantly at his side. Carrie jumped up and rushed to stand next to Paul.

"Pa, jist tell us what ta do 'n' we'll see to it," Hoss said coolly.

Joe nodded and threw an angry glance at Carrie.

Slowly, she backed away from the bed, the tears she'd contained for so long spilling over her cheeks and her chin.

Ben took a sip of the water Paul offered, gathered himself and set forth his plan. "Mr. Reichert sent word several days ago that he had instructed the new teacher to come to the Ponderosa and meet me, in my capacity as school board member. Alyssa, I want you to bring Miss Kinkead here. Just Miss Kinkead."

Alyssa stepped out of the shadows in the room, her face confused and a bit frightened. "Me?"

"Yes, Alyssa," Ben said. "Miss Kinkead doesn't know Hoss or Joe. Well, she hasn't 'met' them. But she's met you and if, as you and Carrie say, she trusts Mrs. Brighton, then I'm sure Mazie will vouch for your abilities to escort her to the ranch."

"But, Pa," Hoss questioned, "why don't we jist bring 'em all here, her 'n' the children?"

Ben shook his head. "Hoss, the news we're going to give that young woman needs to be delivered in person and in a way that won't frighten the children. Miss Kinkead can decide when and how to tell them once she's come to terms with it herself. Now, Alyssa, do you think you can do as I ask?"

"Yes, sir," Alyssa replied. "I can."

"Now, listen carefully," Ben added. "Just tell Mrs. Brighton that you were here to see Carrie and I asked if you'd pass the message along that I am ready to meet with the new teacher as soon as possible. Paul, will you please ride back to town with Alyssa? I don't want her traveling alone right now, what with all of this . . ."

"Of course, Ben," Paul replied. "Under one condition - that you promise to stay put in that bed!"

Ben nodded his agreement. "Go on, now. And Alyssa, not one word of Adam or what's happened here in this room. Not even to Mrs. Brighton!"

Trepidation tumbled over Joe's face. "Pa? You expecting trouble?"

Ben's face tensed. "Stu Weaver knows that Mercy Kinkead and those children are alive and in Virginia City. Add to that the fact that he's the one who told Carrie and Alyssa. I'm afraid we have reason to expect trouble."


	39. Chapter 39

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

Alyssa and Paul had barely disappeared beyond the curve of the road to Virginia City when Joe was startled by his father's booming voice calling him into his bedroom.

"You all right, Pa?" Joe panted, having taken the stairs two at a time in his haste to get to his father.

Carrie, standing near the open window, shrugged at Joe's glance.

Seconds later, Hoss barreled into the room. "Whatsa matter, Pa?" he asked as he busily buttoned his fresh shirt.

"Joe, saddle Cochise and follow Alyssa," Ben ordered. "Don't let her see you. I don't want her to be any more afraid than she already is."

Joe nodded and started for the door.

"Joe, make sure she and Mercy get back here safely," Ben added. "Keep an eye out for trouble."

"Yes, sir," Joe promised. "Stu Weaver won't get anywhere near them."

Joe was gone before Carrie could speak. "Do you think Stu would hurt them?" Carrie questioned.

Hoss flashed a glance at his father, balled his fists at his sides, and turned to Carrie. "If he thinks he kin hurt Adam, Weaver'll do jist about anything."

Carrie melted into a nearby chair. She wrung her hands, hoping to halt their shaking. "I shoulda spoke up the minute Stu told me about Miss Kinkead. I shoulda come to you right then and there, Mr. Cartwright. I shoulda . . ." She sat, stoically, wrestling her emotions while fighting back tears.

Hoss stepped closer and laid his hand gently upon her shoulder, crushing her façade and causing Carrie to burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed.

Ben's heart softened, his fleeting anger replaced with forgiveness. He remembered the night of the bunkhouse fire and the horror he'd felt as Adam balanced precariously between the son he knew and loved and 'William', the man invented to shelter Adam from the terror of the orphanage fire. He was sure that seeing Mercy and the children, alive and well, would be a joyous moment for Adam. But Ben also knew his son, his need for learning the facts and details of anything important to him. And learning those details meant reliving the orphanage fire: the panic, the desperation, the pain, the surrender of defeat. And Ben Cartwright knew, as Carrie had known, that all of this could be more than Adam could deal with.

"Carrie," Ben said, "we all make choices and decisions based on the facts at hand. There is never a guarantee that those choices are right or wrong. While I might disagree with your choices regarding Miss Kinkead, I do know, without a doubt, that you did what you thought was right. And now, we'll all do whatever it takes to move forward."

Carrie raised her eyes to Ben's and saw kindness reflected in their sparkle. She looked up at Hoss, his gentle hand still on her shoulder, and on his face, she found compassion.

"Now, we have company coming," Ben said. "I'd like to get this bandage changed before she arrives. And Hoss, if you'd bring my shaving gear, I'll try and make myself a little more presentable."

Hop Sing arrived, a tray of coffee cups and a carafe in hand. He smiled as he watched Hoss gather Ben's razor, cup, and brush while Carrie prepared fresh bandages. He recognized that Ben was deep in thought, searching for the words he'd need in his upcoming conversation with Mercy, and as he poured three cups of coffee, Hop Sing breathed a sigh of relief. _Everybody busy. Have important job to do. Better. Much better. Now everyone have purpose. No one feel useless. Is much better._


	40. Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

Virginia City's main street was a flurry of bustling activity and commotion, completely different from the silent ride from the Ponderosa. Keeping his horse at a fairly even trot, Paul Martin listened to Alyssa, sitting timidly next to him, anxiously repeating what she would say to Mercy Kinkead. He reined the buggy to a stop on the far edge of town, just minutes from Mrs. Brighton's boarding house. The two sat silently for several minutes, pondering their roles in the day ahead.

"Alyssa, I'm going back to the Ponderosa with you and Miss Kinkead," Paul announced. "I wasn't invited back, exactly, but I also wasn't asked to stay away."

"You're worried about Mr. Cartwright?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," Paul said quickly. "But I'm also worried about everyone else concerned. This will be a shock to Miss Kinkead. Even the children, when they're told, will need help to comprehend the return of someone they'd presumed dead. "

"But won't everyone simply be happy that no one died in that awful fire?" Alyssa asked, her innocence of age showing in her thoughts.

Paul nodded. "Of course, Alyssa. Everyone will be happy. But it isn't always that simple. When someone, in this case, Adam, Miss Kinkead, and those children, have been through a traumatic experience like being trapped in a burning building, well, there's no way of knowing what the mind will do to cope with that experience."

Alyssa continued to stare at her hands, neatly folded on her lap. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Doctor Martin."

"Alyssa, I'm afraid I don't fully understand either," Paul replied with a reassuring grasp to her hands. "Now, what say we put our heads together and come up with a reason for my returning to the Ponderosa along with the two of you?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Crouched behind the brush next to a vacant barn, Joe watched Paul and Alyssa as they sat talking in the buggy. _Must be going over what Alyssa's gonna say. I sure hope she can pull this off. She's got to convince Mercy to head on out to meet some school board member with no notice. If Mercy's anything like most gals, she's not gonna be happy about the last minuteness of all of this. I'm sure she thinks that at their first meeting, she'll have to tell Pa that Adam's dead! Damn it, Carrie! Why didn't you come to us the minute you learned about this from Stu?_

Ducking further into the shadows, Joe continued watching as Doc Martin flick the reins and headed for the boarding house just down the road. From his cover behind the brush, Joe was able to see the front porch of Mrs. Brighton's house to the north and any unwelcome riders that might come by from the south. He watched patiently as Alyssa and Doctor Martin left the buggy and walked side by side up the porch stairs. Joe breathed a sigh of anticipation when only seconds later, the pair were greeted and invited inside by Mazie Brighton.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"You mean he'd like to meet her today? " Mrs. Brighton asked.

"Yes, Aunt Mazie," Alyssa replied. "I was out to the Ponderosa to pay a visit to Carrie . . ."

"Yes, I'm sure that Carrie could use a little female companionship," Mrs. Brighton interrupted, "what with caring for Mr. Cartwright and all of those sons of his living in the house. Why, I'm sure that girl was pleased to see your smiling face, Alyssa."

"I guess so, Aunt Mazie," Alyssa continued. "So, while I was there, Doctor Martin came by to check on Mr. Cartwright and . . ."

"Well, wasn't that nice of you, Doctor Martin!" Mrs. Brighton interjected. "Mr. Cartwright is lucky to have a man of your standards looking after him. My goodness, all of Virginia City is lucky to have a doctor like you! I just don't know what we would do without a town doctor!"

Paul shifted his weight nervously. Mrs. Brighton had yet to tell them if Mercy Kinkead was in her room or out for the afternoon, and he was anxious to get back to the ranch and his patient.

"Aunt Mazie," Alyssa stated impatiently, trying to focus her adopted aunt's attention. "Mr. Cartwright is ready to have visitors, and he would like very much to meet with Miss Kinkead this afternoon. Right away, if possible. And he's asked me to fetch her and bring her to the . . ."

Alyssa's voice trailed, her eyes softened, and she craned her neck to the left. Standing suddenly behind Mrs. Brighton was Mary, her strawberry blonde hair tousled, her tiny fist rubbing her eyes.

"Missa Bwiton, I waked up," Mary said. "Can my nap be aw done?"

"Why, of course it can, little one," Mrs. Brighton agreed, lifting Mary into her arms.

Mary clasped her hands behind Mrs. Brighton's neck and deposited a gentle kiss on the elderly woman's cheek. "Fank you," Mary whispered as she hugged her tightly. She squeezed twice, then lifted her head and looked at Alyssa and the strange man in the room.

"Hello, Mary," Alyssa said. "You remember me?"

"Uh huh. Hello, Miss Lyssa," Mary said, smiling at her friend. "But I don't know _him_," she said, pointing at Doctor Martin.

Alyssa chuckled at Mary's accusing finger, and Paul smiled and waited for his introduction.

"Mary, this nice man is Doctor Martin," Mrs. Brighton said.

"Hello, Mary," Paul said as he grinned at the little girl.

"Nice a meetcha, sir," Mary replied, her blue eyes twinkling at her new friend.

The sound of light footsteps drew Alyssa's attention. Mercy and Danny appeared around the corner and just behind Mrs. Brighton.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Brighton." Mercy apologized. "I'm sorry if Mary interrupted your visit with your company. I heard her awaken and move about in AnnaLynn's room, but Danny was asleep across my arm and I tried not to waken him and . . . "

"Oh, my dear, that's quite alright!" Mrs. Brighton insisted. "I was just about to come for you. Alyssa has a message for you."

"For me?" Mercy asked.

"Yes, Miss Kinkead," Alyssa said, her throat tightening as her heart pounded in her chest. "Mr. Cartwright . . . Mr. Ben Cartwright would like to meet with you this afternoon. If it's alright, I'll ride back out to the ranch with you."

Mercy was stunned. She felt her face redden and her pulse begin to race. _Mr. Cartwright. Adam's pa. He wants to meet me. Today. Breathe, Mercy!_

"Actually, since I'm heading out that way too," Paul added, "I'd be glad to drive you both to the Ponderosa in my buggy."

"The Ponderosa," Mercy thought. "Adam's home. I knew this day would come. I prepared for this day. I . . . Why am I so afraid now?"

"Oh, where are my manners?" Mrs. Brighton said. "Miss Mercy Kinkead, I'd like you to meet Doctor Paul Martin. He's been taking care of Mr. Cartwright since the . . . incident."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Martin," Mercy managed to say.

"Miss Kinkead, the pleasure is all mine," Paul said as he shook the beautiful young woman's hand.

Danny let go of Mercy's free hand and tugged lightly on her skirt, his azure doe eyes peering up at her.

"Oh, Danny, you're absolutely right!" Mercy admitted. "I've forgotten my manners. Doctor Martin, I'd like you to meet Mary's brother, Danny."

Danny stepped forward and extended his hand.

Paul smiled at the little boy who was trying so politely to be a young man.

"Hello, Danny."

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor Martin," Danny replied as Paul leaned down and the two shook hands.

The greeting was all but lost to Mercy. Her mind was sprinting in all directions, and her anxiety did not go unnoticed by Alyssa or Paul.

"Mercy, dear, I'd be happy to watch the children for you," Mrs. Brighton offered, excitement in her voice. "In fact, how would you children like to spend the afternoon helping me to bake some bread?"

Once again, Mary threw her arms around Mrs. Brighton's neck and wiggled in her arms.

"Yes, ma'am," Mary giggled. "I like ta kwish the dough tween my fingers!"

"Can I . . . I mean, may I be the chef again, Mrs. Brighton?" Danny asked with pride.

"Of course, you may!"

"Danny's a good chep!" Mary added.

Mercy stood smiling – an empty smile, her mind rushing with thoughts._ I had it all planned out. Exactly what I would say to him, to Adam's pa. And his brothers. Goodness, I wonder if Hoss and Joe will be there? I'll have to change. Where are my shoes? My hair! I didn't decide whether to wear it down or up. And what will I say? . . . How do I tell a man his son is gone?_

"Mercy? Dear, are you alright?" Mrs. Brighton asked.

Mercy's cheeks blushed as she realized she'd heard nothing of the past few minutes' conversation. "Hmm? Oh, yes, Mrs. Brighton," Mercy responded. "If you could watch Danny and Mary until AnnaLynn returns from town, that would be wonderful. Maybe the children could help you with your bread baking."

Mrs. Brighton examined Mercy's face closely. "Are you sure you're alright, dear?" she asked, raising a hand to Mercy's forehead. "You're not nervous about meeting Ben . . ."

Mercy cut short Mrs. Brighton's question, afraid that eventually, Danny or Mary might comment on the fact that Mr. Adam's last name was the same as the man in question. "I'm afraid I am," Mercy admitted as she gathered the children by the hand. "How about the two of you come upstairs and help me get ready to meet one of my new employers?"

Danny and Mary dashed for the stairs, leaving Mercy behind.

Mrs. Brighton shook her head. "Mercy, dear, you have nothing to be nervous about! Ben is one of the most charming men I've ever known. Kind-hearted and just as sweet as the day is long."

"I'm sure he is. Thank you," Mercy said before scurrying up the steps, retreating to the safety of her room. She immediately noticed that Danny and Mary had already busied themselves in the corner of the room, building a schoolhouse with their wooden blocks, and she closed the door behind her and leaned heavily against it's sturdy support. _I can do this. I'll simply tell of the day Adam first came to the orphanage seeking employment - the day I fell in love with him. And of how I fell over and over with each passing day until . . .until I could no longer fathom my life without Adam in it._

Mercy fought against the lump forming in her throat. _I'll tell them about the spell he seemed to cast over the children there; how they respected him, admired him, and loved him so dearly; how he lifted their spirits and built up their confidence . . . how he made us all feel so special. And how he talked of home; of his beloved Hoss and Joe; of his dear pa, the man who . . ._ The sting of salty tears welled in her eyes. She stood in front of the opened window and let the breeze float gently across her cheeks. And then she gasped, held her breath, and finally smiled. The scent of roses hung in the air and she looked down at the yellow rose bush next to the flower garden Danny, Mary, and she had planted just a few days ago.

With growing fortitude, Mercy slipped behind the dressing screen, taking with her the chosen brown dress. _I can do this, Adam. Your family deserves to know._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Joe spoke softly to Cochise. "Easy, girl. I know you don't understand why it is we're hiding out here, but believe me girl, it's necessary. We've got some pretty important people to protect. And there's a man out there who just might be planning to do them . . . and us harm."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

AnnaLynn reached for the small bundle on the counter. "Thank you, Mr. Jacobson," she called to the shopkeeper as she walked toward the door. "I'm sure this yarn will be perfect for my project."

The shopkeeper nodded as the perky young girl practically skipped from his establishment. With her package tucked neatly beneath her arm, AnnaLynn went on her way down the main street of Virginia City, heading for the boarding house of Mazie Brighton.

The bat wing doors of the saloon swung out into the walkway and a drunken Stu Weaver staggered into the path of several miners eager to increase their holdings in a game of poker.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" Stu yelled.

Before they could counter, Stu tottered and leaned roughly against a stack of barrels just outside the saloon. Brusquely, Stu shoved the barrels aside and struggled to his feet only to be disappointed that the miners had gone on their way, ignoring him completely. With the aid of the nearest post, Stu righted himself and squinted into the sunshine. Focus came slowly, and when it did, he was intrigued by the sight across the street: AnnaLynn, walking lightly, without a care in the world, heading toward Mrs. Brighton's boarding house. Stu righted himself, sneered and shadowed the young girl from his side of the street.


	41. Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

" . . . and when the pump in the kitchen jammed," Mazie Brighton rambled, "well, I thought to myself how nice it would be to have a man I could count on to fix those sorts of things. Don't you agree, Doctor Martin?"

"Hmm?" Paul Martin said, as he sat on the settee, hat in hand, nervously tapping his heel up and down, "Oh, yes, I'm sure there are men in Virginia City who know how to fix all sorts of thing, Mrs. Brighton."

Alyssa twisted her head to the right, unable to contain the blossoming smile creeping across her face. As she and Paul waited patiently for Mercy to ready herself for the trip to the Ponderosa, Mazie Brighton continued to chat, oblivious to the one-sided conversation she was carrying on with herself - save for a few grunts of agreement and several nods of affirmation from her guests. But the humor Alyssa found in Mrs. Brighton's obvious suggestions did nothing to calm her apprehension toward the upcoming ride to the Ponderosa and the miraculous conversation that would take place there.

"I believe I'm ready to go," Mercy announced as she rounded the corner at the foot of the stairs.

Her attire caught the eyes of everyone in the room. Alyssa and Mrs. Brighton smiled their approval at her choice.

After instructing Mary and Danny to mind their manners and be helpful to Mrs. Brighton, Mercy reminded them that they should assure AnnaLynn that she would return to the boarding house as soon as her meeting was through. Mercy then kissed each of the children on the tops of their heads and followed Doctor Martin and Alyssa to the waiting buggy. Seated in the front seat next to Paul, Mercy folded her hands in her lap and steadied herself for the long ride to a place she'd never been. A place she could paint in detail in her mind. The place Adam had spent hours breathing life into for her and the children. The home she'd once believed she'd share with Adam and his family.

As the buggy rounded the corner at the end of the road, Joe mounted and reined Cochise to a slow trot. He mirrored the buggy: it traveling down the main street and Joe lurking between buildings and alleyways. After several minutes, a young boy dashed from between two shops. Cochise reared and nimbly twisted sideways to avoid stomping on the child. In an instant, Joe dismounted and was next to the boy as he scrambled to stand and continue on his urgent mission.

"Are you alright, kid?" Joe gasped, brushing his hand over and around the boy's head, hoping to find no injuries.

"Sorry, mister," the boy answered. "I gotta get the doc! My ma's havin' a baby n' he's gotta come quick!"

Joe grimaced, knowing that what had to be done would reveal his presence in Virginia City.

"Mister, I just gotta get the doc!" the boy cried, struggling to free himself from Joe's grasp.

"Yeah, okay, kid," Joe agreed. "I'll get ya to the doc." Joe scooped the boy up onto Cochise and then mounted behind his saddle. He spurred the horse between the buildings, out into the open on the main street of Virginia City, and directly into the path of the watchful eyes of Stu Weaver. Within seconds, Cochise ran alongside Doc Martin's buggy and with a wave of his arms, Joe motioned the doctor to stop.

"Joe!" Alyssa said, surprised to see one of the Cartwrights in town.

"Adam's little brother!" Mercy thought, keeping her eye contact at a minimum.

"Doc, this little fella needs you," Joe yelled, straining to be heard above the drone in the busy street.

"My ma's havin' a baby 'n' she says you gotta come quick!" the child explained. "She says it ain't like it ever was before!"

Paul's eyes spoke hastily to Joe's and with a nod of his head, Joe assured the doctor he'd watch over Alyssa and Mercy. Torn momentarily between where he was most needed, Paul quickly made the decision to go with the boy. "Joe, would you mind getting these lovely ladies a buggy from the livery? I'm sure Alyssa can get them out to the Ponderosa, unless you're heading back there yourself?"

Joe followed Paul's lead and, his eyes glowing, he offered his hand to Mercy as she stepped from the buggy. "I'll take care of everything, Doc," Joe assured, unable to take his eyes off of the woman Adam loved. "Don't you worry about a thing." He helped Alyssa down, nodding his response to her silent question, and as Paul and the boy headed off, Joe turned to the two young women.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced," Joe said, smiling nervously at Mercy Kinkead. "We have met, though. The day of the bank robbery. Just before the shots rang out. We were . . ."

"Yes," Mercy said, "I remember. You and your father were discussing the teaching position here in Virginia City."

"Joe," Alyssa cut in anxiously, "this is Miss Kinkead. She's been hired as the new teacher and we were on our way to your place so she could meet your pa, seein' as how he's on the school board and all."

"Alyssa, honey," Joe thought, "you're doing just fine."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss," Joe said. "Now, if you ladies will wait in the shade up there on the sidewalk, I'll go and see about renting a rig and getting you out to the Ponderosa."

Mercy and Alyssa took cover under a large awning, and Joe proceeded immediately toward the livery, leaving Alyssa and Mercy waiting comfortably, in plain sight of the citizens of Virginia City, in the doorway of Nathan's Haberdashery.

In record time, Joe returned with the rented buggy, offered his hand to the women as they stepped inside and, moments later, he and Cochise escorted the precious passengers out of town and down the road to the Ponderosa. They were followed, closely, by a hidden figure atop a black horse.

_Well, well, well. I think I've found a new fancy for this afternoon. Let's just see where Baby Joe is taking the lovely ladies. I can visit a spell with AnnaLynn some other time. Today, I think I'll take me an unscheduled ride._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Danny and Mary sat on either side of AnnaLynn on the porch of Mrs. Brighton's boarding house as she read from their favorite picture book. Mazie Brighton rocked as she attached the third of four missing buttons on several of Danny's shirts.

Upon her return to the house, they'd explained to AnnaLynn that Miss Kinkead had gone to the Ponderosa. After excusing herself to her room, AnnaLynn had closed her door and gone immediately to her bed, where she knelt and said a prayer asking for strength for Miss Kinkead as she faced Mr. Adam's family. Next, she asked for comfort for the Cartwrights in dealing with their loss. And finally, she prayed that the three men Mr. Adam treasured would welcome Miss Kinkead, Danny, Mary, and herself as an extension of their family because of the love they all shared for Mr. Adam.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Joe rode alongside the buggy, he scanned the trail from left to right and craned his neck from time to time, trying to be inconspicuous as he searched the road behind them. Alyssa and Mercy chatted, although Joe was unable to hear their conversation. His pulse raced and he grew impatient as his mind wandered ahead to the meeting that was about to take place. _I wonder what Pa will say. How will he ease into the fact that Adam is still alive? What if before Pa can speak, Mercy rushes into announcing that Adam's . . . dead? I can barely say it in my head and I know it isn't true. All I know is, if she loves him as much as he says he loves her, the two of them are gonna end up with everything they deserve!_

Hidden along the brush, Stu Weaver, drunk as he was, managed to remain hidden. He reached into his saddlebag, jerked out his flask and unscrewed the cap. _A toast! To Baby Joe, Alyssa,k and pretty little Mercy Kinkead._ He swallowed three times before choking softly and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. _And another. To those high and mighty Cartwrights, sittin' on their thrones like they haven't a care in the world! Well, I promise you all, you're about to get everything you deserve! Adam and Mercy, the little brats , and all you Cartwrights!_


	42. Chapter 42

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

The fresh scent of pine hung in the air, tingling the senses like the cool, breezy day. Adam could almost feel the sap, thick and oily against his skin. The grinding sound of the saws filled the air, drowned out by the occasional shout of 'TIMBER!' as selected, majestic pines toppled gracefully from the heavens to the earth, landing with a monumental thud against the ground. A whiff of manure cascaded by as he rode past a trio of men, each one planting and fertilizing a seedling to replace a recently sacrificed pine.

Adam slowed Sport to a trot, admiring the saplings already stretching toward the warmth high above, their needles glistening with tiny droplets of the water they'd been given to welcome them to their new homes.

"That's what we're here for, Adam," he remembered his father saying. "Not just to take from the land, but to give." Adam inhaled, long and deep. _It's no wonder I found my way back to this land. I was drawn to it, as if some invisible piece of it had buried itself in my heart. Just like Pa. He knew he belonged here before he ever even left Boston. Sight unseen._

"Mr. Cartwright!" Davis yelled. "Glad you're here, boss!"

Adam was snatched from his thoughts and he waved as he reined Sport to a stop at the foreman's tent. "I don't suppose you've managed to solve all of the problems in the time it took me to ride up here," Adam said, friendly sarcasm filtering through his tone.

"No, sir, I'm afraid not," was the foreman's reply.

"One could hope, but that hope, it seems, was easily defeated!" Adam said. "Looks like I'm here for the duration."

"If ya call two days a 'duration'!" Davis laughed. "Besides, would you really rather spend the next two days at the ranch, performin' the duties of a rancher, or up here on this glorious mountain with the sunshine and fresh air to greet your every breath?"

Adam removed his hat and scratched the back of his neck. "Davis, when you put it that way, I can't think of anyplace I'd rather be!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Mr. Cartwright," Carrie said timidly, "well . . . with all that's going on this afternoon, I thought you might want to have your bandages changed early, before . . . It'll be one less thing on your mind."

Hoss, seated comfortably next to his father's bed, raised his eyes and glanced from his pa to Carrie and back again. He'd spent the last hour quietly skimming through a book he'd found on his father's bedside table. It had been Hoss's idea and he'd seen the relief on Carrie's face when he'd suggested relieving her for a bit so she could gather herself and calm her nerves. Now, an hour later, Hoss could plainly see that her nose was reddened, her downcast eyes were swollen, and her nerves were just as frazzled as before.

Ben scrutinized the lovely young woman standing frozen in the doorway. During the past hour, he'd tried in vain to sleep - even just to rest - but fear for Adam's mental state and anger over Carrie's secret swept through his soul as he mentally played out one scenario after another. As he looked at Carrie, her eyes puffy, her shoulders slumped in distress, he could only imagine what had played-out in her mind since the moment she found out about Mercy Kinkead. And to have discovered Mercy's identity from the likes of Stu Weaver, well, the thought made Ben cringe.

"Carrie," Ben said softly, "I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Please, would you help me with my bandages?"

Hoss smiled, just a little, at his father's kindheartedness. Though he disagreed with the decision to keep Mercy a secret, his compassion for Carrie's dilemma had softened his reproach. _I think once Adam sees Mercy and hears Carrie's side of things, he'll forgive the secret. I hope Joe kin hold his temper long enough to do the same. But I know one person who's gonna have a devil of a time forgiving Carrie. And that's Carrie herself._

"Hoss?" Carrie repeated, pulling Hoss from his thoughts. "Would you mind helping me so your pa can sit up a bit further?"

"Shore thing, Carrie," Hoss said, his gentle voice caressing any tension Carrie or Ben still held inside.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cochise bobbed her head and Joe felt an unevenness in her canter. He grasped the reins a little tighter and reached forward, stroking her neck. "What's the matter, girl?" he asked, scanning all directions for signs of the cause of his mount's concern. "You got the same bad feeling I've got?"

His pony swayed her head from side to side before slowing her pace.

"I'm thinking," he whispered to his four-legged friend, "that the ladies should continue on their way while you and I have a look-see."

"Alyssa, you keep going," Joe yelled as he reined Cooch to a halt and dismounted. "I think Cochise may have picked up stone. I'll check her and catch right up."

"Okay, Joe," Alyssa replied, unaware of Joe's suspicions.

Joe rested his hand on his gun as he inspected Cooch's leg. "Someone's out there, Cooch," Joe whispered. "Even as dumb as Stu is, this won't fool him for long. If it is Stu."

Up ahead, the buggy rounded the bend in the road and Joe's heart raced as it disappeared in the brush. He heard his pulse hammering against his veins, and as he let go of the hoof, he weighed the options: catch up to Mercy and Alyssa and put them in more danger? After all, his mere presence could instigate gunplay; or draw whomever it was out in the open here, away from the women.

_But if all they want is the women . . . Damn! _Joe spun on his heels, grabbed the reins and swung himself into the air. It was in that instant that Joe's world turned painfully black and silent.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Miss Kinkead," Alyssa said as she stayed their buggy. "I think Joe should have caught up to us by now, don't you?"

Mercy glanced behind them into the dust-filled air and saw no sign of Adam's little brother. "It has taken longer than I would have expected," Mercy agreed. "Maybe we should go back and check. It could be that his horse has a bruised foot and he's walking her back to the ranch. In any case, I think we'd both feel better if we confirmed his situation, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alyssa replied. _Gee, she already sounds like a teacher!_

Alyssa turned the buggy and they started on their way back to where they'd last seen Joe Cartwright. Moments later, Mercy shielded the sunshine from her eyes, straining to make out whatever it was that was moving just ahead.

"Is that . . .," she asked.

"That's Cochise!" Alyssa gasped. "But where's Joe?"


	43. Chapter 43

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

Cochise slowed as Alyssa maneuvered the buggy to a halt. In one fluid movement, she handed the reins to Mercy and sprung down from the buggy. "Where's Joe, girl?" she asked, soothing the obviously frightened horse.

Mercy applied the buggy's brake and joined Alyssa at Cooch's side.

"Careful!" Alyssa warned. "Cochise doesn't take to strangers."

Mercy tenderly stroked Cooch's neck and forehead, speaking to her in a gentle, yet confident tone. "Easy, girl. Easy. Now if you could only tell us what's happened, we could get you home and see to it that you're curried and brushed, all safe and sound."

Alyssa shook her head in disbelief. "Joe says Cochise doesn't even always take to his family," she said, "but she's sure found a soft spot for you, Miss Kinkead!"

"Yes, well, I've been told I have a way with animals," Mercy replied, "but right now, we need to see if she might lead us to Joe!" Mercy persisted in her conversation with Cochise as she gathered her skirt and petticoats and slipped her foot into the stirrup.

"What are you doing?" Alyssa questioned. "She'll most likely throw you before you can grab the saddle horn!"

Mercy swung herself atop the horse, her stocking-covered legs bared from the knee down. "Cochise and I are friends," Mercy stated. "I don't believe she'll do any such thing. Now, Alyssa, get into the buggy and let's see if she'll lead us to Joe."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The snap of the thick branch caught his attention as he battled the murky fog of unconsciousness. A rustling sound followed, like the leaves dancing their ballet in the winds of early autumn. But it was spring, and the air hung heavy and thick with moisture against his skin.

_There's no wind._

He endeavored and failed to raise his head. His neck throbbed as a result and when he drew his knees to his stomach, a stabbing torrent slashed through his thigh and up into his back.

_What the hell happened to me? God, this hurts. I was on Cooch, then . . . My . . . my ankles are tied together. What? And my wrists . . . Oh, no! The girls! How did this . . ._

Once again, there was blackness and silence. Silence for him. Yet all around, the sound of Stu Weaver brushing the drag-marks from the dirt revealed the first detail in a long awaited plan of revenge.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Horse and horse-pulled buggy paralleled one another as they retraced the trail back toward Virginia City. The women rode in silence, their eyes ever wary of movement on the landscape.

"I know Mr. Cartwright sent Joe to keep an eye on us," Alyssa thought, "but this is just too strange! I mean, what could have happened to Joe? He got down to check Cooch's leg. But she's not favoring it. At least not now. So what could have happened?"

Alyssa glanced at Mercy as they continued down the trail.

"Joe was bringing her to the ranch to meet Mr. Cartwright," Alyssa considered to herself. "There was no one else along the road, so . . . Wait! There's one person involved in all of this who might want to see how it all plays out! Stu!" Alyssa shuddered.

As they rounded the bend where they were last seen by Joe Cartwright, Alyssa, recognizing the familiar terrain, slowed her mare. Mercy inhaled deeply and did the same.

"Are you sure this is where we left him?" Mercy asked as she stood in the stirrups, inspecting the area from left to right.

Cochise restlessly pawed at the ground. Mercy patted her neck and felt the apprehension in the pony's muscles.

"I'm sure," Alyssa assured. "Joe!" she yelled. "Joe where are you?"

From behind a group of rocks and brush came the mocking voice of Stu Weaver. "Joe! Joe, where are you?"

Alyssa recoiled at the sight and sound of the man she'd been warned about for as long as she could recall.

Mercy sat tall in the saddle, her shoulders squared and her jaw clenched tightly.

Stu stepped forward, his gun drawn and his horse following obediently behind. He passed the buggy, proceeding directly to Cochise.

"What have you done with Joe?" Alyssa screamed.

Her accusation went unacknowledged as Stu sauntered closer to Cochise.

The mare took three undirected steps backward. She snorted loudly and danced from hoof to hoof, threatening to bolt. Stu grabbed the noseband of her bridle roughly. Cochise reared, but Stu held her tightly. Mercy managed to remain righted and slowly removed her left foot from its stirrup. Stu stepped alongside Cochise, still brandishing his gun.

"Leave her alone, Stu!" Alyssa yelled as she stood in the buggy.

"Shut up, brat!" Stu retorted. "If you and Carrie had done your part, none of this would have been necessary!"

Mercy quickly glanced at Alyssa. "What's he talking about, Alyssa? What does Carrie have to do with all of this?"

"Now, now, Miss Kinkead," Stu sputtered. "Don't you worry about anything! Ole Stu's gonna take real good care of you from now on."

Alyssa studied Mercy's face, the two communicating wordlessly.

Stu!" Alyssa yelled, attempting to distract their captor. "What did you do to Joe? Where is he? Did you hurt . . ."

Mercy swung her leg with more force than she thought possible, aiming it directly at Stu's head. The crunch of contact sickened her as Stu lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. Mercy jumped from Cochise and charged at Stu's prone figure. She managed to kick the gun from his hand, and break two of his fingers, before he could recover from his fall.

Stu growled in pain as he rolled to his side, grasping the broken fingers in his other hand.

Alyssa fled the buggy and rushed to Mercy's aide.

Mercy lurched toward the gun, only to have Stu stretch his good hand just far enough to grab her by the ankle, toppling her brutally to the ground. Mercy cried out as he crawled over her, grabbing for the gun. "Run, Alyssa!" Mercy hollered. "Get help! Hurry!"

"But I can't leave you!" Alyssa exclaimed.

Mercy gripped Stu's leg as he crawled closer to the gun. "Don't argue! GO!"

"But . . ."

"NOW, ALYSSA! NOW!" Mercy ordered.

Alyssa leaped into the buggy, flicked the reins and shouted to the mare. As the horse's hooves and the wheels of the speeding buggy churned dust and dirt, Alyssa drove down the trail to the Ponderosa. "HEEYA! HEEYA!" she shouted, slapping the reins with all her might, tears racing down her cheeks. Alyssa heard two things before she rounded the bend: A roar of agony and a single, heartbreaking gun shot.


	44. Chapter 44

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

On any given day, Stu would have easily secured the gun from Mercy's hand. Today was not such a day. His all-night poker game had robbed him of sleep, and his inebriated condition, as well as his misbegotten anger and resentment of anything and anyone Cartwright, left him clouded.

As they fought for the gun, Mercy's strength evolved from pure adrenaline. Fighting for her life, she had managed to match Stu maneuver for maneuver.

Now, Mercy and Stu lay tangled together on the side of the trail; he with his right hand grasping tightly to his gun; she with her left hand holding fast to the same. Their arms ached, neither willing to relinquish the grip they had on the weapon. At the sound of the shot, both wore a stunned look as they mentally searched their own beings for the offending wound and found nothing. Assuming the other to be the victim launched each of them into a struggle more furious than before. Grunts and groans escaped them as dust and brush filled the air around them. Rolling back and forth, stealing every opportunity to affect bodily harm, Mercy and Stu continued their battle.

Mercy suddenly lifted her head. A large gash above her eye released a considerable amount of blood, shrouding her sight and stinging with every blink. She shook her head violently in an effort to alter the blood's path. And that's when she saw him. "JOE!" Mercy cried.

On his knees, his hands tied securely behind his back, his feet bound together, blood trickled from a wound on his right shoulder and surged from the gunshot in his left thigh. In their scuffle for the gun, they'd managed to shoot Joe Cartwright as he hobbled from the brush, intent on rescuing Mercy Kinkead.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"HOSS! HOSS!" Alyssa screamed as the buggy sped down the trail to the house, her voice hoarse as she sobbed as loudly as she could. "HOSS! HELP!"

With speed and grace easily defying his girth, Hoss charged from his father's bedroom, through the hallway, and down the staircase. He reached for his gun belt, snatched his pistol, and hurtled himself through the front door. Lowering his aim at the sight of Alyssa standing in the careening buggy, he dashed toward her horse, flailing his arms.

"WHOA GIRL! Whoa!" he shouted as he grasped the horse's bridle and tagged alongside until she managed to stop.

"HOSS! HE HAS MERCY! HE'S GONNA HURT HER!" Alyssa sobbed.

Hoss lifted the young lady from the buggy, planting her feet firmly on solid ground. He held her shoulders firmly as they trembled with each gasping breath. "Alyssa, honey, try 'n' calm down enough so's you kin tell me what happened!"

"Stu! It's Stu Weaver! He grabbed Mercy and they were fighting for his gun and . . ." Alyssa raised her eyes to meet Hoss's. "And I think he's hurt Joe, too!"

Hoss glanced down the trail, looking for an explanation of how a simple ride from Virginia City to the Ponderosa could have gone so wrong. "Where abouts, Alyssa?" Hoss asked. "Kin ya tell me where?"

Alyssa shook her head, swallowed dust, and choked. "Back at the bend just after the Hollow Rock turn-off," she answered, sputtering after nearly every word. "You know, the curve that leads behind the brush."

Hoss wasted no time. He darted for the barn, shouting instructions to Alyssa as he saddled Chubb. "Alyssa, git in the house. Lock the door behind ya. Then go tell my pa what's happened. Kin ya do that?"

"Yes, Hoss," she replied, her voice shaken but strong. "But you should know that Joe was with us, coming back to the ranch. He knew someone was following us, and he sent us on ahead. But then, when he didn't catch up with us," she admitted, regret and anger in her tone, "we did something stupid and went back to look for him. We shoulda just kept on going and come for you!"

Hoss swung himself onto his mount. "There's always shouldas 'n' couldas 'n' wouldas. Now you jist git into the house 'n' do like I told ya!"

Alyssa ran for the front door, turning briefly to see Chubb galloping down the path at lightening speed. When she opened the door, she immediately recoiled. Alyssa was met by the anxious face of Ben Cartwright, supported by Carrie, his bandaged shoulder already leaking a circle of red.


	45. Chapter 45

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

Inebriated as he was, Stu was not brainless. Though he'd lost track of just how long ago Alyssa had fled, as the battle for the gun raged on, he knew she was heading straight for help on the Ponderosa. _Enough is enough! I didn't want to hurt you, Mercy, not just yet! But this has to end!_ With one strong blow, Stu's fist smashed against the left side of her jaw. Instantly, the struggle ended as Mercy lay motionless on the ground.

"YOU BASTARD!" Joe cried, still on his knees, aiming to crawl toward Mercy. With his wrists and feet bound, his shoulder injured, possibly dislocated, and his thigh bleeding profusely, he managed to move a few inches closer before toppling, face first and hard, onto the trail, mere feet from where Cochise stood. "Home!" Joe yelled, tasting sand and dirt as his head dropped to the ground.

Cochise turned, her hooves beating against the worn earth as she galloped at full speed.

Stu stared at the mare, his mouth agape, as she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. _Damn horse! I shoulda known Baby Joe would have her trained! Well, no matter. Just means ole Stu's gotta move a little quicker's all._

After binding Mercy's hands, Stu hoisted Joe's feet and dragged him several feet into the brush. Stu knelt next to Joe's pale, motionless body, checking the ropes that bound his wrists and feet. He stood, slid his gun from the holster and drew aim at Joe's chest. He pulled back the hammer, a grin spreading across his face. _One down, three to go. I wonder how Fat Hoss, Saint Adam, and King Ben will take the news when they find Baby Joe's dead body!_

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Mercy shouted.

Stu spun to find her standing on the trail just beyond the brush. Her face was filthy, covered in dirt and drying blood. A trickle of red dripped from the corner of her mouth. Her cheek bone already showed signs of painful bruising, and her chest heaved with each difficult breath. But it was the fire in her eyes that made Stu gasp.

"Leave him, and I'll go with you," Mercy sputtered. "I won't fight you. Just leave him alive!"

Stu grinned, for it was now that he noticed that one of Mercy's shoulders was exposed and reddened where her blouse had been torn. Her skirt was ripped and her hair disheveled. His sick mind reverted even farther, and he found himself aroused at the thought of being alone with his captive while Adam and his family searched frantically for a way to affect a rescue.

"Well, now, your offer does pose a certain amount of interest," he slurred. "Although I was so looking forward to the demise of at least one Cartwright today." _Think, Stu, and think fast. That brat Alyssa should be at the ranch by now, and you've gotta cover your trail no matter what you decide!_ He looked at Joe and back again at Mercy. _I could kill 'em both right now. Poor Adam. Two to mourn instead of just one._

Stu fixed his gaze on Mercy, on her milky-white shoulder, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. _I'm gonna kill her, eventually. Why not have a little fun first? Adam won't like that, knowing ole Stu had his hands on his woman before she died._

Stu chuckled aloud and the sound sent a shiver through Mercy's soul.

_Adam won't like that one little bit!_ With one last gesture, Stu kicked Joe's ribs and sent his body rolling, his already injured shoulder smashing into a large rock.

Mercy cringed at the impact.

Stu gripped her forearm forcefully and yanked and pulled her to his horse. Clumsily, with hands tied, she managed to climb into the saddle as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Stu heaved himself onto the horse, sitting so firmly against her that Mercy felt the bile rising in her throat. As he grabbed the reins, Stu's arm brushed against her chest and she barely choked back a sob in the form of Adam's name. Her head pounded with each step as Stu's horse galloped away. She watched for markers, trails, anything that might help her to find her way back to where Joe lay bleeding and unconscious. It was then that she realized that Stu Weaver had neglected to cover his tracks and she said a silent prayer that Alyssa had made it safely to the Ponderosa and that soon, someone would be searching for Joe as well as herself.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hoss spurred Chubb as he spoke to his faithful mount. "Come on, Chubb," he yelled, "we've gotta git ta Joe 'n' Mercy. Heeya!"

Along the trail, Hoss scanned for signs of recent riders, but found only one set of tracks belonging to Alyssa and her buggy. His mind wandered to Joe and his heart fell when he thought of what he might find at the Hollow Rock turn-off. "Please . . . Please . . ." Hoss mumbled, his prayer lilting from his lips.

Chubb unexpectedly twisted his neck from side to side. Hoss sat tall surveying the trail ahead.

"What is it, boy?"

Moments later, Hoss saw the cause of Chubb's excitement. Cochise appeared up ahead, riderless, galloping toward the Ponderosa.

"Aw, Joe!" Hoss cried as the horses met, briefly sniffing one another before Cochise, ignoring Hoss's commands, ran once again toward the ranch. "Joe must've sent her home!" Hoss said. "C'mon, boy, let's go find 'em. Hang on, you two, ole Hoss is comin'."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Mr. Cartwright, please sit down!" Carrie said, the forced calm in her voice rapidly switching to frustration. "Pacing is not going to help you to understand the situation any better than if you hear about it while sitting down! . . . Please?"

Ben dropped himself into the nearest chair - the blue one - and immediately felt the unaccustomed contour of the chair as it cushioned his descent.

"Thank you," Carrie said as she knelt to adjust Ben's bandages.

"Go on, Alyssa," Ben instructed, shifting uncomfortably, his face fighting to betray his pain, as Carrie examined his wound.

"Yes, sir," Alyssa said, grateful for the brief respite Carrie's demands had provided. "So, when Joe didn't catch up to us, we decided we should go back. We were expecting to meet him along the way, walking Cochise because she'd gone lame. But we didn't meet him," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "And when we got about half-way back, we found Cochise standing in the road. And we really got worried."

"Where was Joe?" Ben asked, dread rising in his chest as he thought of the baseless hatred Stu Weaver had for the Cartwrights.

"That's what we wanted to find out!" Alyssa cried. "So, Miss Kinkead rode Cochise and I drove the buggy and when we turned the corner at Hollow Rock, I called to Joe, but he didn't answer."

The thought of silence where Joe's voice should be sent a shiver down Ben's spine. The shudder didn't go unnoticed by Carrie, and she quickly stoked the dwindling fire in the hearth.

"That's when Stu came out of the bushes," Alyssa said, her hands shaking as they lay tightly clasped in her lap.

This time, it was Carrie who shivered. _This is all my fault. If only I'd . . . . Oh, Joe, please be all right. And Mercy, too. Please, God, don't let Stu harm them._

"He went straight for Miss Kinkead," Alyssa continued, her tears rolling freely. "And the next thing I knew, she was fighting with him, trying to get his gun."

Alyssa coughed and sputtered, and Ben sat forward, reaching toward the settee where Alyssa sat crying. Ben was stayed by Carrie's hand.

Instead, it was Carrie who comforted Alyssa, sitting next to the girl on the settee. "Just tell us what else happened," she said.

"O- kay," Alyssa said, sniffing. "Miss Kinkead told me to go for help, to ride to the Ponderosa as fast as I could. I should have taken Cooch, she's so much faster than the buggy! Why didn't I take Cooch?" Alyssa buried her face in her hands, sobbing.

Carrie pulled her close, holding her tightly and gently rocking back and forth.

"But I didn't," Alyssa cried. "I was scared. Stu was close to Cochise, and I was afraid to try and get to her. Miss Kinkead yelled for me to go, and I was afraid he'd . . . Oh, and now he has Miss Kinkead! I'm sorry, Mr. Cartwright. I'm so sorry!"

"Alyssa, look at me," Ben said, his voice startling the crying girl.

She focused her swollen eyes on Ben Cartwright, his eyes, dark and wise, soothing her.

"You had every right to be frightened of Stu. He's a . . . disturbed man," Ben said, choosing his words carefully in front of the young women. "Someone had to go for help, and Miss Kinkead doesn't know how to get here. You do. And you did get here and you sent Hoss back to help Miss Kinkead. And Joe."

Carrie felt a tug at her heart, like a weight was pulling it downward, at the mention of Joe's name and the worry in Ben's voice.

Silence hung heavily in the air, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the shifting of the wood inside the fireplace.

"Now," Ben announced, his voice full of resolve, "it's up to us to be ready for whatever comes next."

Carrie glanced at Alyssa, unsure of Ben's intent.

"Carrie, it sounds as if Joe might have been injured by Stu," Ben said, the words cramping his throat, "and if Mercy was fighting with him, she may have a few cuts and bruises as well. So, I want you to get some bandages ready for when Hoss brings them home. And Alyssa, dear, I'm a little chilly sitting here in this chair. Would you mind making a big pot of coffee? That way, when everyone arrives, we can all warm up with some and it will be, I'm sure," he smiled as his voice softened, "much better tasting than what's leftover of the brew Hop Sing made this morning!"

Both ladies retreated to the kitchen, each set on their assigned tasks. Ben sank back into the chair, wincing at the pain in his shoulders and back as he struggled to get comfortable. Alone with his thoughts, Ben's face dropped, deepening the lines in his forehead. He rested his chin on his laced fingers, closed his eyes and prayed for his youngest son and the young woman whom fate had matched against Stu Weaver. He asked for the safe return of his middle son, knowing Hoss would risk his own life to save either of the others. He begged for strength for his eldest son, no matter the plan for his future with or without Mercy Kinkead. He prayed for Danny, Mary, and AnnaLynn, the children who'd already suffered more loss than any child should be expected to endure. And he asked for guidance for Carrie and Alyssa, for he knew they were already buried deep in self-blame for all that was happening around them.

A clattering sound shook Ben from his retreat. He opened tear-filled eyes to see Carrie and Alyssa coming from the kitchen. Carrie held bandages beneath a large bowl of water and she hurried into the downstairs guest room to deposit them there. Alyssa carried a tray of coffee cups and saucers, as well as a carafe filled with fresh, aromatic coffee. At the center of the tray, Ben saw a long-forgotten vase.

"I hope you don't mind, Mr. Cartwright," Alyssa said as she placed the tray atop the table in front of the fireplace. "I was looking for the cups and all, and I found this vase. So, I stepped out back and cut a few of these for the vase. I thought it might add a little cheerfulness to the room, you know, when everyone's here and Adam comes home and . . . Well, I hope you don't mind."

Ben smiled warmly. "Not at all, Alyssa. I don't mind at all."

The vase had been a gift from a teen-aged Adam. He'd painted it himself and presented it to Marie on her first birthday as a Cartwright. "For your roses" was all Adam had said, for he had yet to accept Marie as a part of their family. And today the vase, embracing four freshly-cut yellow roses from the bushes Marie had tended with such love and care, sat atop a tray of coffee that awaited the safe return of Ben's sons and the woman whom Adam loved beyond words.


	46. Chapter 46

CHAPTER FORTY SIX

Stu's breath, hot and moist, stung against Mercy's skin as he craned his neck, surveying their position. She'd recoiled as he pressed even tighter against her as they'd ridden, covering a couple of miles at best guess. The ache in her head grew more agonizing with each passing minute and her stomach roiled when she thought of Joe, left bleeding and unconscious, hidden beyond the brush.

"Just a little further, Miss Kinkead," he whispered, his chin resting on her shoulder.

Mercy tilted her head drastically to the left, away from the offending swine holding her firmly around her waist.

Stu leaned to the side and rubbed his cheek against her exposed neck. "Then ole Stu's gonna share a little secret I've been saving for you. One that'll make it even more fun to celebrate the good news!"

Mercy paid little attention to his ramblings, her thoughts falling heavily on Alyssa's arrival at the Ponderosa and the impending rescue that must, by now, be at hand.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"JOE!" Hoss bellowed, his voice growing weary after calling out for nearly fifteen minutes. "JOE!" He reined Chubb to a stop. Twisting in his saddle, he surveyed the land in all directions, hoping for some new sign. After a close look at the tracks, he analyzed which horse matched which print, and it was obvious that Stu's horse had gone off to the north with a heavier load than when it arrived at the Hollow Rock turnoff. Hoss knew one of the riders must be Stu, for if it was Joe, he would have ridden south toward the Ponderosa. "Must be that snake's taken one of 'em, but which one?" Hoss asked aloud, a realization hitting him squarely in the heart. "Joe or that gal might not even be out here!"

Hoss sat taller in the saddle. "MERCY! JOE!" he cried, praying for an answer. "MERCY! JOE!"

Chubb startled, tossing his head to and fro, hearing well before his master the rustle in the brush.

"Hoss . . ."

Hoss flung his torso in the direction of the weak, yet familiar, voice. "JOE!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ever aware of his master, Sport strolled up the bank of the pond toward his owner. Adam smiled as his horse scrutinized his demeanor, concluded that Adam did indeed intend to pause at the pond a little longer, and proceeded to help himself to some tall grass nearby.

He'd done all he could that afternoon, working together with the lumber camp foreman in an effort to solve the troubles specific to their contract and those of the lumberjacks working alongside one another. Tomorrow would bring new complaints and suggestions, and Adam, in his experience, knew that in every negotiation there was a time to call it quits for the day - before tempers and emotions brought on by weariness and strong opinions had occasion to flair.

So, he'd left the camp for a much needed reprieve, riding to a long-time favorite spot along Whisper Pond. He'd removed his boots and socks, found a large pine suitable for resting against, and made himself comfortable along the edge of the pond. His thoughts turned to a fond memory of a day many years ago; a day when he and his father had stopped at that very pond. He recalled reluctantly asking for permission to go for a swim, assured that his father would find reason to deny the request of his seven-year-old son. Instead, on that hot summer afternoon, Ben Cartwright had surprised him by saying 'yes', putting aside his work, and encouraging Adam to leap into the cool water.

Adam laughed, a laugh so pure in delight that the pine needle he'd held between his teeth toppled from his mouth and onto the ground. The source of his joy, still alive some years later, was not the joy of a child getting his own way, but that of a child whose father not only put spending time with his son ahead of his work, but that of a father who out of the blue, shed his own clothing and leaped into the pond alongside his laughing little boy.

Adam's eyes sparkled as he thought of his father and when he found another proper pine needle, he slid it between his lips and his grin gentled.

_Mercy, I'll never forget how you laughed when I told you that story. Laughed and . . . understood. I'd never felt comfortable talking much about those days . . . till I shared them with you. The days when hunger tempered the smile in Pa's spirit as well as the smile on his face. Days when what little he earned never really belonged to him, but to Hoss and me - we always came first. First, even when there were those who judged that Pa was neglecting us; spending endless hours working until his hands bled and his muscles begged for relief; nights when I avoided sleep and heard him crying softly, praying aloud to my mother, to Inger and most often, to God; asking for guidance, for strength and for courage, not for the betterment of himself, but to assure health and happiness for me and Hoss. Everything he did was for us . . . You were right. He may already know, but he needs to hear it from me just as much as I need to say it aloud._

Adam reached up and tugged on a branch, pulling hard enough to break it free of the pine. Guilt washed over him as he heard Mercy's voice ringing a forgotten promise. _I never meant to break my promise._ Adam pitched the branch with all the strength he could muster. _I'm sorry, Mercy. I'll tell him. I'll tell him as soon as I get back._

Adam stood staring at the pond, his eyes clouded in the memory. He was startled into the present when Sport nudged his arm with his muzzle. "You ready to go, boy?" Adam asked as he stroked Sport's nose. "C'mon. Let's get back to camp. I'm sure we can round up some oats for you there." Adam took his place atop his loyal mount and the two headed east for the lumber camp, leaving Whisper Pond and a happy memory behind.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Where are we?" Mercy asked as Stu slowed his horse, taking them beneath some low hanging branches and into what Mercy thought must be a long neglected homestead yard.

"You don't need to know," Stu replied, disgust in his tone.

The yard was overgrown, yet flowers and bushes made feeble attempts to bloom beneath the scrub brush. A hitching post, at the edge of what must have once been a lovely garden, stood rotted, one end fallen to the ground at the edge of the shrubbery. A barn, its weathered roof sagging in spots, lacked paint and its doors hung loosely on their rusted hinges. Barely visible in the undergrowth were the remains of a corral, its gate dangling against a tall thorny shrub. The house, unpainted for years, kept watch over the yard through missing and broken panes of window glass. Soiled curtains blew raggedly through two of the missing eyes, blinking sideways as the damaged front door grimaced a welcome to the approaching pair.

As he dismounted, Stu ran his hand across Mercy's waist, an unwelcome reminder of his impending intent. He tethered his horse to the post, pausing long enough to kick the lower crossbeam in anger and abhorrence. He helped her down, the deception of his gentleness soon brought to light when, harshly, he pulled her against him, pressed his hips against hers and grinned. "Remember, _Miss _Kinkead," he said. "I know where Baby Joe is lying back there. You play nice with me or I'll go back and pay him a little visit."


	47. Chapter 47

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

"Someone's coming!" Carrie whispered. "It sounds like one horse."

Ben straightened in his chair. He glanced at the window above his desk and reached for the pistol lying hidden alongside his thigh. "Get down!" he commanded, nodding his head. "Over there!"

Alyssa and Carrie moved swiftly, ducking into the shadow cast by the pine staircase. Carrie stepped forward, unable to stand by while Ben remained out in the open. "Mr. Cartwright, let us help you . . ."

"Shh!" Ben shook his head, his eyes staring at the locked latch on the front door.

Ben tipped his head, listening intently for any sound in the stillness. Carrie and Alyssa held their breath, hoping to hear someone familiar, afraid it could be Stu.

Suddenly, a thunderous crack from a log in the fireplace shook Ben to his very core. The young women gasped, nearly toppling over one another as they crouched further into the darkness. As they struggled to recover, Ben heard the distinct sound of a single horse pawing at the ground.

"Carrie, check the window," Ben whispered, glancing at his desk, "but stay down!"

Carrie, stooped, her eyes fixed on the window across the room, slowly made her way past the stairs before rushing to Ben's desk and out of view of the front door. She slid her fingertips behind the curtain and managed to peek carefully, shocked by what she saw in the yard. "It's Cochise, Mr. Cartwright!"

"Joe?" Ben gasped, sliding forward in his chair.

"No, sir, just Cooch. She's just standing there by the post."

"She came home," Ben said, his voice sounding far away as his mind raced thinking of Joe and what might have transpired that would make his son send his pony home. He sunk back in his chair, his gun slipping from his hand and landing on the table.

Carrie hurried to his side. She felt his forehead, distressed by his pallor. Ben's skin was warm, and Carrie wished in silence that Doctor Martin would ride up to the Ponderosa.

"I know we should put her in the barn, but . . ." Carrie said, sitting on her heels next to Ben. She looked at his face, pale with worry and weary from pain. "Hoss will find Joe, I just know it. He'll find him and then, together, they'll find Mercy. Those two can do the impossible whenever they're together!"

Ben looked at Carrie, straining to show his appreciation. Unable to muster a smile, he took her hand in his and gave a gentle squeeze. _You're right, Carrie. But if Cochise is here, Joe must be hurt._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Missa Bwiton, will Miss Kinkead come home for suppow?" Mary asked, her tiny bare feet dangling from the porch as she handed Danny another strawberry from the basket.

"I have a feeling that Miss Kinkead will be invited to stay at the ranch for supper, Mary," Mrs. Brighton replied from the rocker behind the children. "Oh, I'm so clumsy!"

Danny sprung to his feet, chasing the rolling ball of yarn that had toppled from Mrs. Brighton's lap. Giggling, he bent down yet again, as the elusive orb spun just out of his reach. His third attempt was successful.

"Got it!" Danny proclaimed proudly.

"Why, Danny, my boy, you are such a good helper!" Mrs. Brighton declared.

"Yep! I mean, yes, I am," Danny said as he plopped down next to his sister. "I'm a good appremice!"

Mrs. Brighton smiled, wondering whether or not she should ask the young boy about his frequent use of such a grown-up word.

"I woulda hepped, but I gots a juicy face 'n' hands!" Mary said, slurping the liquid from another berry.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Brighton said a silent thanks for bringing the two adorable children into her sometimes lonely life.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Adam settled, as comfortably as possible, against an untrimmed stump, spooning the steaming stew into his mouth as he unintentionally eavesdropped to bits and pieces of several conversations around him.

"And then she had the nerve ta dance with Charlie Watkins!"

"The big'n walked right up to him 'n' landed one ta his jaw! Boy, he went down like a . . ."

"And my maw, she ain't doin' so good since my pa passed. She cries a lot 'n' . . ."

"I'm telling' ya, he thought his name was William!"

The spoon hung motionless, halfway between Adam's plate and his mouth. He raised his eyes, his head still tilted downward, and scanned the group seated around the campfire. Now that he was trying to listen in, it frustrated him that the voices meshed together in a low rumble of sound.

"Shake it off, Adam," he said to himself. "Most likely, they don't mean any harm. Just talking to hear themselves talk." He quickly finished his meal, returned the plate, cup, and fork to the chuck wagon cook, and went off on his own to curry Sport.

"Evenin', boy," Adam said in a gentle voice. "Thought you could use a good brushing." With long, even strokes, Adam brushed Sport's shoulders, and with each stroke, Adam felt his own muscles relax. Next, he moved to Sport's hindquarters, smoothing the fine hairs, the coat shining in the moonlight. "Remember the pond today, boy? I was daydreaming about a very special time and an amazing "lady . . ." Adam said, his voice catching, "A lady I wish you could've known."

Sport stomped a hoof in the dirt.

"Oh, I know you don't care much for other people fussing over you, boy. But I have a feeling you just might have warmed up to this particular gal. She had a way about herself." Sport twisted his long, muscular neck, nudging Adam's back. "Hey, what was that for?"

"You say something, Mr. Cartwright?" the cook asked as he approached the makeshift corral.

Adam turned to face the old man. "No, well, yes. I was talking to my horse," Adam said.

"Long as he ain't talkin' back, I guess it's okay!"

Adam laughed, but as the cook walked away, he looked Sport in the eyes. "You may not talk the way we do, boy, but you never do things without a meaning. So, Sport, old friend, just what was it that you were trying to say?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Paul Martin wiped several drops of rolling sweat from his cheek. He'd been working for four hours already, trying every remedy and trick he knew to assist the breeched baby. While his educated mind screened multiple scenarios of what was to come, he couldn't shake thoughts of the Ponderosa and his good friends, the Cartwrights. He imagined Mercy had already been told that Adam's alive; that Ben had by now welcomed her into their family and had sent someone to the lumber camp to fetch Adam. He dipped the cloth into the basin, wringed the excess cool water from it and wiped the woman's forehead. As he did, he wondered about Ben's condition, knowing that his heart would be celebrating, but hoping that Carrie and his sons had been able to keep his body at rest.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

In Ben's figuring, Hoss had been gone way too long. He'd calculated the distance from the Ponderosa to Hollow Rock and back multiple times, and giving Hoss time to find Joe, he knew that they should've been back by now.

Alyssa, searching for any task to occupy her mind, sat on the hearth, poking the logs as they crackled and sputtered. Her nerves were still frazzled, and she'd been reluctant to come out from under the staircase, even when reassured by Ben and Carrie that is was safe.

Carrie paced the floor. Still blaming herself, she'd managed to tuck the guilt aside and filled its void with worry for Joe and Mercy. _They have to be all right. Mercy and Adam have been apart far too long. And when she's safe and Adam gets home, they'll be an instant family. Danny and Mary and AnnaLynn, Adam and Mercy. He'll be happy. And that's what matters. That, and Joe. He'll forgive me, won't he? Hoss has. And Mr. Cartwright is really trying. But, Joe. He's apt to hang on to his anger, and his disappointment . . . But none of that matters a lick if he's hurt somewhere out there. He has to be okay._

Carrie heard the low rumble at the same instant as Ben. Alyssa stood, looked at them and, marshaling her fears, ran for the window. Ben's heart beat swiftly at the sound of the approaching, pounding hooves.

"Carrie, get me my gun!" he shouted. "Alyssa, STAY DOWN!" he ordered.

He seized the armrests of his chair, ready to spring up and head for the front door when he heard Alyssa's excited voice. Peeking beneath the corner of the curtain, she watched as Hoss carefully slid a limp form from across Chubb's saddle.

"Mr. Cartwright, it's Hoss! And he's carrying . . . Oh, Mr. Cartwright, it's Little Joe!"

Carrie looked to Ben for permission, and with a nod of his head, she sped to the door, opening it just when Hoss reached the threshold. As he swept past her, she saw the bullet hole in Joe's leg, his trousers soaked in blood.

"On the settee!" Carrie ordered loudly, locking the door behind them.

"Stu's got Mercy," Hoss said.

"Oh, no!" Carrie whispered, following behind Hoss.

"Pa, I had ta bring Joe. His shoulder's hurt somethin' awful 'n' he's got a bullet in his leg," Hoss announced as he gently lowered his moaning brother to the settee.

Ben nodded, inching himself to the edge of the chair, his face drawn with worry and helplessness.

"Alyssa," Carrie whispered, wishing Doctor Martin were there, or at least, that she had access to his tools, "I need several kitchen knives. Boil them for two minutes, and then bring them here without touching the blades." Carrie gently prodded Joe's shoulder, the result of which was Joe's first agonizing cry. "I'm sorry, Joe. It's dislocated," Carrie said. She looked up at Hoss, her green eyes begging for the help no brother should have to offer.

Hoss nodded somberly, anxious and torn. "Let's git to it, then, so's I kin git out after Mercy."

Carrie tenderly brushed her fingertips through Joe's hair, softly speaking words of encouragement. "Hang on, Joe," she whispered. "And before you say a word, don't you worry about Mercy! Hoss is going after her just as soon as we fix you up."

"Stu has her," Joe said, raising his head, anger rising in his weakened voice. "He . . . I . . ." Joe gasped, falling back against the padded arm of the settee.

"Now you listen to me, Joseph," Carrie said firmly as she gently lifted his arm, bending his elbow and holding his arm across his chest. "I know you, and I know that you're already blaming yourself for what happened out there."

Carrie nodded to Hoss. Knowing what was coming, Joe struggled against Hoss's hold. As Carrie rotated Joe's bent arm back, she signaled to Hoss and began coaxing Joe's shoulder back into place.

Joe writhed in misery, his legs thrashing back and forth. He cried out, a piercing scream that left Hoss and Ben fighting back tears.

"But, Joe," Carrie continued, her voice steady, her face, calm, "you did nothing wrong! It is not your fault. No one could predict what Stu would do, or even if he was planning to do anything at all." Her jaw clenched as she pushed, yet again, against Joe's shoulder.

Once more, Joe screamed, begging Carrie to stop.

Ben was on his feet, making his way toward the settee. Holding his hand protectively against his wound, he suddenly staggered, crumpling atop the living room table with a thud just as Joe's shoulder popped into place.

Panting, Joe lifted his head. "Pa!" he cried as he watched his father, bent over, sitting on the table next to the settee.

"I've got Joe, now, Hoss," Carrie assured, "get your pa back into that chair."

Hoss moved at her command, lifting Ben from the table and carefully lowering him to the chair. He felt the heat rising from his father's shoulders as he positioned him as comfortably as possible. He glanced at Carrie, and her eyes told him that his father was not yet out of danger.

Alyssa came from the kitchen carrying several boiled knives wrapped in a clean towel. She'd heard Joe's cries and quickly turned away from the scene, holding the towel with outstretched arms.

"Pa," Hoss said, "Joe needs the doc, but Mercy . . . I hafta go."

"I know," Ben said, his voice full of unspoken fear. "Be careful, son. Be very careful."

Hoss grasped his father's shoulder. _Hang on, Pa. Hang on._ He smiled down at his father, then moved next to Joe. "Joe, you do what Carrie tells ya, ya hear?" he said, touching Joe firmly on his good leg.

"Hoss, wait! I gotta go with . . ." Joe murmured, barely able to turn his head to follow Hoss as he hurried out the door.

"Alyssa, I'm going to need your help. That bullet has to come out," Carrie said. "Do you think you can help me?"

Alyssa felt the corners of her mouth being tugged toward the floor. She wanted to cry; to run to a safe place and simply fall to pieces. She looked at Ben, leaning heavily against the back of his chair, clearly exhausted and in pain. She glanced at Joe, resting more comfortably now that his shoulder was in place, but still hurting and in need of medical attention. Finally, her eyes met Carrie's.

"Lyssa?"

Alyssa swallowed the lump creeping up in her throat. "Okay. Tell me what to do."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hoss crouched, examining the footprints scattered around the place where he'd found Joe. He nodded, stood and hefted himself into his saddle. "C'mon, Chubb. Let's take care of Stu Weaver once and for all!" Hoss nudged his mount to a gallop, the trail left behind being almost too easy for him to follow. Before long, he realized that the tracks were leading straight to the old Weaver homestead, abandoned shortly after Stu's father's death. "I shoulda known, Chubb. I shoulda figured," he said, patting his horse's neck. "Now let's go 'n' git Mercy! Heeya!"


	48. Chapter 48

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

"Carrie?" Alyssa called, her whispered name filling the silence of the kitchen. "You okay?"

Carrie lowered her head, smoothed the curtain in place, and paused before turning to face her young friend.

"Oh, Carrie!" Alyssa cried, hurrying to Carrie's side. "What is it?"

Tears pooled in Carrie's eyes and her quivering lips impeded her response.

"You told Mr. Cartwright you thought Joe was gonna be fine," Alyssa whispered. "You said you got the bullet without much trouble!" Alyssa rested her hand on Carrie's shoulder. "Carrie, is Joe worse off than you let on?"

A solitary, whimpering sob escaped Carrie's lips.

"Oh, Carrie, how bad is he?"

Walking away from her friend, Carrie shook her head. "It's not that. Joe's leg should be okay, as long as there's no infection," she said, sniveling as she spoke. "It's everyone. Everyone is in turmoil because of me and my irresponsible, foolish, just plain stupid actions! Everyone, that is, except for Adam. He's off at a lumber camp unaware of any of this . . . this mess I've caused!"

Alyssa crossed the room, reaching out to console her distressed friend.

"No!" Carrie shouted, quickly regretting any attention she may have drawn. Lowering her tone, Carrie shrugged Alyssa's affections away. "No! I won't have it! No comfort, no understanding . . . and no pity! I did this. Oh, I may not have started it, but I let it go on. And now, that poor woman is God-knows-where with that, that animal. And Hoss is riding into danger to save her. And Mr. Cartwright's recovery is in jeopardy. And Adam will never forgive me. And Joe . . . Oh, Alyssa! What if Joe never forgives me?" Carrie stomped to the sink, pumping fresh, cool water into a large basin.

"Carrie . . ."

"No!" Carrie spat. "Until everyone is safe and sound and reunited, forgiving me is of no importance."

Alyssa leaned over the sink, studying Carrie's face. "Carrie, you almost sound as if Joe's forgiveness means more to you than . . ."

"Carrie!" Ben hollered from his chair in the great room. "Carrie, Joe needs you!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Juniper, old girl," Paul said, flicking the reins and turning his buggy towards Virginia City, "I believe that makes twelve. A dozen citizens of Virginia City have been delivered safe and sound by yours truly!" He waved over his shoulder as he left the small homestead, having promised to check on mother and newborn the following day.

"Now," he said to his mare, "let's get back to town so I can change and get some supplies. Move along, old girl. We've got to get to the Ponderosa. I can only imagine what might be waiting for us there."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Mr. Cartwright, I sure can't thank you enough for ridin' all the way up here today," Davis said, scribbling the last of the new figures into the log book. "I just can't believe we was able ta git things all worked out by moving some numbers 'n' havin' a few words with some of the men. I was figurin' it might take up to the better part of tomorrow before we saw the light o' day! Your pa sure did send the right man for the job!"

Adam dipped his pen and smiled as Davis swiveled the book on the wooden table. After signing his initials in four places, Adam blew against the paper, watching the ink's moisture evaporate in the mixture of lamp glow and moonlight. "Well, Davis," Adam said, "sometimes it just takes a fresh pair of eyes to make things right. I'd bet a week's pay that you'd've come up with the answers in a day or so. But I do thank you for the compliment."

Davis closed the book and placed it with the others on a makeshift shelf inside the tent. He looked up at Adam and smiled. "A couple of the men've got a poker game about ta start over by the chuck wagon, if'n your interested."

Adam tilted his head, raising his eyes to the starlit sky. "It's still kinda early, Davis. I think I'm going to start for home."

"Wouldn't ya rather travel in the daylight, Mr. Cartwright?" Davis asked. "You could leave first thing in the morning."

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, still gazing upward at the sea of twinkling lights. "Yeah, I guess I could," Adam answered, grabbing his hat from the table and setting it squarely atop his head. "Something's tugging on me tonight, Davis. Don't know what it is, but it's calling me home."

"Suit yourself, boss."

Before the next cup of coffee was poured and the next hand could be dealt, Adam rode by the chuck wagon, tipping his hat to the players, and driving Sport at a steady pace toward home.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Hoss tethered Chubb to a low-hanging branch amid the brush and overgrowth near the Weavers barn. Dusk had fallen quickly, and the soft, eerie glow of lamplight confirmed that someone was indeed inside the house. Creeping slowly, ever closer to the open yard, Hoss's plan began to take shape: get in, take care of Stu, and bring Mercy home to Adam.

Sliding as tightly against a towering pine as possible, through the distance, Hoss ventured a glance at the only front-facing window in the house. The sheer curtain, weathered and torn, revealed the dancing glimmer of the oil lamp and a shadow intermittently cast by someone walking to and fro in the front room. _Must be Stu. No matter how drunk he is, he wouldn't risk lettin' Mercy wander around._

Discouraged by the lack of cover between the house and his position, Hoss chose to investigate the perimeter before making his plan a definite one. The left side of the house held no doors or windows, and as Hoss skulked his upper body around the back corner, he was grateful to find a grove of lofty trees suitable for cover. Like a ghost, he made his way to the center of the back yard amid the trees and short branches. The windows at the back of the house had been boarded, but the door, though shrouded in overgrowth, had been left slightly ajar, hanging from one rusted, cracked hinge.

Hoss danced his way through the rocks and stumps that dotted the ground, adrenalin surging as he made his way toward the dark house. Knowing there was light in the front, he surmised that he'd have at least some measure of surprise to his advantage - the back door must lead to a different, unlit room.

He reached the house unseen, his breath coming in rapid gasps. Gun drawn at the ready, he wrapped his large fingers around the latch and tugged gently. The hinge immediately surrendered under his minimal force and to his surprise, he stood holding the back door of the Weaver home suspended in his left hand. Stepping away to lower the large wooden rectangle, he loudly snapped a fallen branch beneath his boot. The sound echoed in the night air and Hoss swiftly disposed of the door before retreating to a safer distance and crouching behind a long-forgotten wood pile. _Dadgummit!_ He hunkered for several minutes, waiting and watching the house and the yard surrounding it for any signs of Stu. When no sound or shadow was cast, Hoss arose slowly, heading once again for the now-missing door. He stepped inside and froze, his eyes adjusting to the absence of moonlight. The silence was shattered by the angry, slurred voice of Stu Weaver.

"I'm not going to tell you again! Do it, or I'll do it for you!"

Feeling his way in the shadows, Hoss shuffled toward the voice.

"Very well. Have it your way!"

Hoss craned his neck forward. A sound, faint and unfamiliar, confused his senses. _What was that? Sounded like someone . . ._

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

"Is this the way Adam used to touch you?" Stu asked, his voice husky and full of suggestion. "Or was it like this?"

"Adam?" Mercy cried. "How do you know . . ."

Mercy's scream, matched in volume by a cry of agony from Stu, sent a rage through Hoss. He charged into the room, his gun drawn and his eyes saturated with hatred. Stu, though doubled over in pain, held his gun fast against Mercy's side.

"Well, well," Stu sputtered, gasping for breath, his knees drawn tightly together, "if it isn't Fat Hoss! Drop the gun or I'll kill the bitch right now!"

Despite the tension and obvious peril, Hoss couldn't prevent a tiny snicker at the sight of Stu cradling his genitals in one hand, his face contorted in pain. Hoss's slight amusement faded however, and tears quickly welled in his eyes, when he saw Stu's gun pressed into Mercy's side. He looked at Mercy, one eye swollen and bruising, her face cut and dirtied, her hair tousled and full of sand, and her blouse ripped apart and hanging loosely down at her waist.

Hoss's thoughts were torn. _That bastard hit her! And he . . ._ Hoss wanted desperately to cover Mercy. He thought of reaching for the dusty old blanket folded neatly over the back of a rocking chair in the room. He considered giving her his vest. But mostly, he wanted to hold her and tell her Adam was alive.

"I said, drop it, Hoss!" Stu growled, grabbing Mercy and pulling her against him.

"Hoss?" Mercy whispered. _Adam's Hoss._

Reluctantly, Hoss lowered his gun, dropping it to the floor and kicking it under a table at Stu's command.

Pulling his hostage with him, Stu backed himself to a small desk and reached inside the topmost drawer, retrieving a length of rope. He ordered Hoss into a chair and shoved Mercy forward, instructing her to bind Hoss's hands to the frame. Backing once again across the room, Stu gathered another rope, and Hoss soon found his ankles bound together. Stu grinned down at his latest captive, then grabbed Mercy's arm, dragging her to the metal-framed bed in the corner of the room. With a thrust of his hand against her shoulder, he forced her to the mattress. It was then that she and Hoss noticed the handcuffs already attached to the ironwork of the frame. Within seconds, Mercy found herself handcuffed to the bed.

"Well, now," Stu said, reaching for the flask in his vest pocket. "This is more than I could have expected!" Laying his gun atop the table, he unfastened the small lid, raised it to his lips, and gulped three times, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterward. "Now I've got two things that for reasons unknown to me, Prince Adam seems to care about!"

Mercy, tears trickling ribbons through the dirt on her face, breathed deeply as she looked from Stu to Hoss and back again.

"I gotta tell her," Hoss thought, "before that jackass does."

"Miss Kinkead," Hoss began, "there's somethin' I gotta . . ."

Mercy stared up at Stu, pushing herself to a sitting position on the bed. "Why do you keep referring to Adam?" she asked.

Stu grinned, a dribble of drool running from the corner of his mouth.

"Miss . . ." Hoss said, trying to stop what he knew was about to happen.

"Why that's easy, Miss Kinkead," Stu announced, pacing between his two captives. "Miss Mercy Kinkead."

"SHUTUP, WEAVER!" Hoss yelled.

Stu grinned. "You see, Mercy, Adam Cartwright is alive and well and right here in Virginia City!"

Mercy sat, apparently untouched by Stu's pronouncement. _This man is insane. Insane, angry, and drunk. And with that combination, I'm not sure how we're going to get out of here alive._

Stunned by Mercy's non-reaction, Stu rushed to her side, sitting next to her on the bed. "Didn't you hear me? I said your precious Adam is alive."

Mercy glared at Stu, his face leaning in close to hers. His breath sickened her and the madness in his eyes frightened her more than she thought possible. "Mr. Weaver," Mercy said, "you're mistaken."

She looked at Hoss, bile rising in her throat. _Oh, Adam. I'm so sorry. This is NOT the way Hoss should find out. I knew the truth would hurt him deeply, but this . . ._

"Tell her, Fat Hoss!" Stu screamed. "Tell her the truth NOW," Stu grabbed Mercy's waist and pulled her against him, "or I'll take her right here in front of you!"

Hoss bristled._ I got no choice. I gotta tell her, and I gotta do it right now. _"Miss Kinkead, I know you was at that orphanage in Canada with my brother. I know there was a fire 'n', well, you 'n' three children 'n' Adam was caught up in it. AnnaLynn, Danny, and Mary's their names. And I know why you came here ta Virginia City ta tell us what happened ta Adam."

Hoss watched Mercy's face closely. As he spoke, he saw complete abandon in her dark, chestnut eyes while right in front of him, she grieved Adam yet again. His voice caught in his throat as he struggled to continue. "Miss, I jist don't know how, but the night of that fire, nothin' happened the way you 'n' Adam think it did."

"Me AND Adam?" Mercy whispered, the honesty in Hoss's voice and the compassion in his face speaking volumes about his valor and integrity.

"Yes'im," Hoss said, "You 'n' Adam."

"Then," Mercy said, her voice quivering, her hands shaking, "Adam is really . . ."

"Yes'im. I wouldn't lie to you. Not even with Stu's gun pointed at me. Adam is . . ."

"Adam's alive!" Mercy cried, her chest heaving as sobs overtook her. She gasped for breath and fainted on the bed next to Stu Weaver.


	49. Chapter 49

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

"Hey, Doc!"

Paul turned his head as he tossed his shiny black bag into the buggy and placed a rolled bundle next to it on the seat. He'd wasted no time changing his shirt, filling his medical satchel, and gathering spare bandages for his visit to the Ponderosa. Squinting his eyes, he waited as the figure approached. Finally, in the light from the storefronts still open at that hour, Paul was able to make out the face that matched the voice.

"What is it, Cal?" Paul yelled, hoping to avoid any further delay engaging in small talk with one of the town's biggest gossips.

Cal Wilmer sauntered up t the buggy, his thumb and finger rolling a long piece of straw he held between his teeth. "I heard tell some young feller was huntin' ya down a while back. Did he findja?"

Paul steadied himself and raised his leg to the buggy floor when he felt a hand on his back.

"D'ja hear me? I said," Cal repeated, removing the straw from his lips in an effort to be understood the second time around.

Paul sighed and hefted himself into the buggy. "Yes, Cal. I heard you. And the boy did find me. In fact, he has a healthy new baby sister to prove it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to . . ."

"Well, now, i'n't that nice. A new little lady here 'n Virginia City!" Cal said. "Oh, say Doc. Did that other feller ever find you?"

Paul readied the reins as he released the brake with his booted foot. _I've got to get to the Ponderosa! This other fella's probably some two-bit drifter in need of a hangover tonic! But if it's someone who really needs me. Oh, I hope I don't regret this!_ "What other fella would that be, Cal?"

"Hmm?" the old timer mumbled, distracted by the everyday bustle of people in the street.

"The fella," Paul said impatiently. "You said someone was looking for me."

"Oh, yeah, I remember now," Cal said, his voice animated as he pointed to the saloon across the street. "I was comin' outta the Bucket of Blood, oh, 'bout four or five hours ago. I's jist standin' there on walkway 'n' he ran smack up agin me! Derned fool! 'Bout liked to knock me off'n my feet! Fool! Drunk he was! Drunker 'n usual even."

"Cal," Paul interrupted, anxious to get on the road. "Why did this drunk want to see me? Was he hurt? Bleeding?"

"Now, I dunno 'bout that, Doc. All I knows is Stu was real int'rested in where you was goin'. Said somethin' 'bout you bein' with two young ladies 'n' then he shoved me, real hard. Pert near knocked me off my feet agin! Said he saw that Joe Cartwright fella take them ladies 'n' you was ridin' off ta somewheres else 'n' he wanted ta know where you was all goin'. I told him I didn't know where you was goin'! Ole Stu shore didn't like that answer, no sir. Didn't like it one bit. He was madder 'n a hen in a litter o' coyotes!"

Paul flew out of the buggy and grabbed Cal by the shoulders. "Now, Cal. I need you to think on this," Paul said, his eyes glaring at the old man. "Think real hard, Cal."

"All right, Doc. No need ta git all riled up!"

"Cal, where did Stu go after you talked to him?"

Cal straightened himself and looked with indignation at Doctor Martin. "Well, now, Doc. I ain't one ta keep tabs on folks when it ain't none o' my . . ."

"Where, Cal?" Paul yelled, shaking the old man. "Where did Stu Weaver go?"

"He got on his horse 'n' rode out. Down Main Street 'n' down the south road. Looked ta me like he was followin' that there Cartwright kid 'n' them gals."

Without so much as a word, Paul leaped into his buggy and sped toward the south road, leaving a stunned Cal Wilmer staring at the dust-covered street. Seconds later, Paul reined his horse to a sudden, violent stop. _The children. Stu knows where they are. Someone has to protect the children!_

Paul spun the buggy full-circle and fled past Cal, still standing in front of Paul's office, bewildered by the events of the day. Paul stopped once on his way to Mazie Brighton's boarding house, and that stop was at the Virginia City Jail to explain the situation to Sheriff Roy Coffee.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I believe you're right, Paul," Roy said as he reached for the large ring of keys atop his desk. "The Ponderosa's the best place for them now."

Together, the two men, Paul in his double-seated buggy and Roy on his horse, rode to the boarding house. It was Paul Martin's face at that late hour that Mazie Brighton met when she reluctantly opened her front door.

"It is rather late, Doctor Martin," she explained.

"I know, Mrs. Brighton, and I do apologize," Paul said, "but the sheriff and I need to speak with you. It's urgent, I'm afraid."

"Oh. Then do come in, please," she said, opening the door under a cloud of dread. "Oh, no! Is it Mercy? I knew it was getting too late! Why didn't you bring her back home, Paul? Has something happened to Mercy?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"This is all just too unbelievable!" Mrs. Brighton cried, shaking her head in disbelief. "These past few weeks, that poor child has been steeling herself to deliver the worst news a body can deliver, all the while mourning a man she loved, a man she thought had died a horrible death while trying to save her and those children . . . And all that time, he's alive and well and just a few miles away at the Ponderosa!"

Roy shook his head. Hearing the events of the past months again in one evening made them no easier to accept.

"And Adam," Mrs. Brighton said, "that sweet young man, struggling to accept that he'd failed to rescue them all . . . poor, poor dear!"

"Mrs. Brighton," Paul explained, "Roy and I think it best if we take you and the children to the Ponderosa. With Stu Weaver on the loose and feeling the way he does about the Cartwrights, the Ponderosa would be the safest place to gather everyone involved."

"But what will we tell the children?" Mrs. Brighton asked, rising to her feet. "I don't want to frighten them. For all we know, Stu is unconscious somewhere, sleeping it off."

"Mrs. Brighton," Roy explained, "I've known that man his whole life. He's not 'right'. Never was. And his mother and father did nothing to help. If anything, they made it much, much worse. If he thinks he can hurt the Cartwrights in any way, especially Hoss or Adam, he won't hesitate to do so!"

Mrs. Brighton paced the length of her parlor, fear spreading through her and anger building inside her. "If only Carrie . . . I just can't fathom why that child would keep something like this to herself! If she hadn't . . . And if anything happens to Adam or Mercy - ANY of them - because of her choices, why that girl will never forgive herself!"

"Mrs. Brighton?"

The delicate voice startled the three adults.

"I heard voices," AnnaLynn said as she stepped further into the parlor, "and since it's so late, well, I just wanted to make sure everything was all right. I'm sorry if I've interrupted."

Mrs. Brighton wrapped her arm securely around AnnaLynn's waist. "Not at all, my dear," she said, protectively pulling the young girl against her. "I believe you've already met Doctor Martin, and this is Sheriff Coffee."

"It's a pleasure, miss," Roy said, nodding his head.

"Sheriff?" AnnaLynn said, worry on her face. "Forgive me. I'm pleased to meet you, Sheriff Coffee. Is everything all right?"

Roy smiled at the polite young lady.

Mrs. Brighton stole a quiet, deep breath. "Yes, dear. Everything is all right. In fact, everything is about to become an adventure! Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

Confused, AnnaLynn smiled at Mrs. Brighton and opened her mouth to speak. She never got the chance to ask her question.

"It seems that Ben," Mrs. Brighton said enthusiastically, "I mean the gentleman from the school board, you know, the one Miss Kinkead went to meet, has invited us all to come and visit his ranch. Oh, AnnaLynn, he has horses and cattle and chickens. Won't Danny and Mary love the chickens? And he has a home bigger than any I've ever seen. And he's invited us to stay there for a few days. Won't that be fun?"

AnnaLynn looked at the adults in the room. Her intuition told her something wasn't quite as it seemed. "What about Miss Kinkead?"

"Oh, she's still at the ranch, waiting for us to arrive," Mrs. Brighton assured, her head turned away.

Had AnnaLynn been able to see the woman's face, she would have been convinced that all was not well and that their adventure to this ranch was more a strategy of survival.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tiny hands reached deep inside the drawer while bright blue eyes conjured up images of what the fingertips touched. Petite calf muscles bulged under the weight and strain of standing on tip-toes, hoping to add just enough height. Her tongue danced and darted with each different texture until finally, Mary felt the soft flannel fabric of her favorite, best nightshirt. "Got it, AnnaLynn!" she squealed.

"Good job, Mary," AnnaLynn said, taking the neatly folded treasure from Mary and sliding it deep inside the brown satchel. "Danny, have you found your trousers?"

"Yes, AnnaLynn," Danny said, "They are under my shirt, there on the bed."

"Good," AnnaLynn said, nodding her approval. As they continued packing for their stay at the Ponderosa, AnnaLynn, though puzzled by the suddenness of their adventure, took each of the younger children's questions in stride.

"Will there really be chickens?" Danny asked as he stood at the mirror painstakingly brushing down a stubborn clump of blonde hair.

"Yes, Danny. Mrs. Brighton says there will be chickens."

"If there's chickens, maybe there'll be a rooster, too! And maybe she'll crow really loud to wake us up in the morning!"

AnnaLynn grinned. "Danny, roosters are males, not females!"

"Oh," Danny said, embarrassed by his mistake.

AnnaLynn reached out to ruffle his hair, noticed the hairbrush still in his hand and instead, patted his shoulder. "And you are absolutely correct. If there is a rooster, I'm sure he'll crow in the morning!"

"I like woostows," Mary added and followed her pronouncement with a screechy imitation, complete with flapping arms and a few fancy footsteps that sent Danny into hysterics.

AnnaLynn glanced around the room. Satisfied that she'd seen to all they'd need for a day or two at the ranch, she tied the satchel tightly before beginning the task of packing for Miss Kinkead.

"AnnaLynn, can I wide one of the ponies at the wanch?" Mary asked as she climbed onto her bed, her little legs swinging from side to side.

"'May' I ride one of the ponies at the ranch," AnnaLynn corrected.

"May I?"

"I'm sure that if there is a pony at the ranch, you will be able to ride it," AnnaLynn said. "Now where did Miss Kinkead put her . . . Oh, there it is!" AnnaLynn grabbed the book and placed it inside the second satchel, along with clothing and various sundries she thought Miss Kinkead might need. "Well, that's everything. Now," she said, lifting Mary down from the bed, "let's begin our adventure!"

Danny scooted for the door while AnnaLynn put the lamp out. With one last moonlit look around the room, AnnaLynn took hold of one satchel in each hand. A gentle tug on her skirt halted her steps.

"AnnaLynn," Mary said, her enormous blue eyes sparkling in the glow, "is it all right if my dolly comes along?"

AnnaLynn knelt next to the suddenly timid little girl. "Mary," she said, her comforting voice warm and tender, "your dolly may always go wherever you go. Please remember that, sweetheart."

Mary's little feet tapped across the wooden floor. She leaped onto her bed and scooped her doll into her arms. Sliding down, backwards, her feet reached the floor. She ran quickly to AnnaLynn, still kneeling at Mary's level, and threw her arms around the young girl's neck.

"Fanks, AnnaLynn. And dolly says fanks, too."


	50. Chapter 50

CHAPTER FIFTY

"What is it, Mr. Cartwright?" Carrie asked as she rushed into the guest bedroom, Alyssa on her heels, their eyes darting immediately to the figure in the bed.

Removing the bullet from Joe's thigh had been more than Carrie had bargained for. The extraction was done successfully and with minimal blood loss, but being seeing the pain on Joe's face had left Carrie exhausted, frazzled, and more connected to Joe than she ever dreamed possible.

Both Alyssa and Ben had praised her for her skill, thanked her for helping Joe, and told her how proud they were of her level headedness throughout the difficult surgery. Yet truth be told, Carrie had been terrified. She'd observed Doctor Martin on many occasions, even assisted a few times with gunshot victims, but to instantly take the responsibility of removing a bullet upon herself had surprised even Carrie. Circumstances had left her no choice. Joe had to be helped, and she was the only one able to do so.

His cries of pain and pleas for relief hadn't been easy to set aside. Carrie had barely begun when he broke free of Alyssa's hold and reached for her hand, begging her to stop probing for the bullet. If not for Ben's swift descent, Carrie might have lost the courage she'd mustered. Even now, Carrie could still feel Joe's hand, cold and damp with sweat, his fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist. She could feel his eyes penetrating hers, beseeching her to find some way to end his agony.

Now, she shuddered as she reached his bedside, recalling the decision she'd made to move him from the settee to the bedroom, and the difficulty with which that move had been accomplished. She prayed that regret for her decision would not arise.

"He called out for you, Carrie," Ben said, leaning forward in the chair next to the bed. "He said his leg is on fire."

Carrie first felt Joe's forehead, smoothing back a curl of his hair.

Joe pushed against her hand and its cooling touch.

She raised the sheet from the bottom of the bed, the slight breeze causing Joe to shiver. Carefully, she checked his wound and the surrounding area.

Ben breathed a sigh of relief when she smiled up at him.

"No fever and no excessive heat around the wound," Carrie announced. "I'm sure he was hurting, but as far as I can tell, there's no cause for alarm." Gently, she covered Joe, folding the sheet just below his neck.

"Pa," Joe moaned, "is Hoss back yet? Did he find Mercy?"

"Not yet, Joe," Ben answered. "Don't you worry about that now, son. You just rest."

"Pa?"

"Yes, son?"

"What if Stu hurts her? More than he already has?"

Ben swallowed hard. "We're all praying that he doesn't, son."

"Pa?"

"Yes, Joe? Carrie fixed me up real good, didn't she?"

Ben raised thankful eyes to the young woman standing on the other side of the bed. "She sure did, Joseph. She sure did. Now you rest, son."

Joe's thankful eyes swallowed Carrie as the ends of his mouth turned upward, ever so slightly. Within seconds, those same eyes fell heavily and Joe was fast asleep.

Carrie took a seat next to the bed, her body aching from tensed muscles and emotions. She sighed as she sank back against the softness of the cushion and allowed her eyes to close as she listened for Joe's breathing.

With the watchful eyes of his nurse temporarily closed, Ben pressed his palms against the chair, trying yet again to find a position that would allow him to fool Carrie and remain in a chair and not stretched out on the settee or alongside his son on the guest room bed. He winced as a familiar pain shot from his hip to his shoulder. What he did not expect was, unlike the other times he'd shifted or moved on his own, this time, the pain did not subside. Clenching his jaw, he rested his head against the pillow Alyssa had slipped behind his neck. Satisfied that the pain did not worsen, Ben tried in vain to overlook the throbbing in his body by concentrating on the happy reunion he prayed would soon take place.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Circles of brilliant gold and shining silver light bounced atop the surface, twinkling their replies to the questions from the stars now hidden from the sky. Rays of heat caressed each rock, each tree and every thin, hearty blade of grass. The smell of the Ponderosa pines swirled around the scent of crystal blue water and together, they danced through the clean, Nevada air. He'd talked of a place such as this although 'talked' did nothing to describe the emotion, awe, and longing on his face. The soothing calm in his voice and the love radiating from his eyes as he spoke of his home warmed the breeze and lightened the memories of the day.

"Adam," she whispered, her own voice carried away with a puff of air.

"Prince Adam ain't here!" Stu shouted as Mercy sifted through the sounds and smells, slowly bringing herself back to consciousness.

"You all right, miss?" Hoss asked, his concern riling Stu's already harried state of mind.

Mercy's reply was buried beneath the crack and thud of Stu's pistol against Hoss's jaw.

"SHUT UP, FAT HOSS!"

Mercy gasped as Hoss's head pitched to the side, his blood spurting through the air.

Hoss calmly wiped his mouth on his shoulder before turning back to Mercy. "You fainted, miss," Hoss said. "I'm powerful sorry, but I gotta ask. Do you remember what I told you?" He saw the turmoil in her eyes as she nodded her head. He opened his mouth to speak, knowing in his heart that nothing short of Adam bursting through the door could answer the colliding questions and scenarios in her mind.

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Gray pain swirled into black relief, warm blood trickled from a gash on his head, and Hoss grasped at the last sound he heard - Mercy's cry. "NO!"

"You didn't have to hurt him!" Mercy cried.

"What do you care?" Stu yelled, malice gleaming from his eyes. He grabbed Hoss by the hair, checking his level of consciousness, then released his grasp, sending Hoss's head plummeting toward his chest. "Fat Hoss isn't so tough after all! Especially without Prince Adam to step in and fight his battles!"

Stu staggered past Mercy and she watched him lurch his way into the kitchen of the old house. _He's mad! Crazy! And, oh God, Adam's alive? How? It isn't possible. Maybe Hoss was playing along with Stu. Adam always said Hoss was very clever when you'd least expect it. But his eyes. His eyes told the story with a purity of truth that his words couldn't match. Adam is alive!_

Hugging her legs close to her chest, she rested her chin atop her knees. Rocking slightly, she clamped her eyes shut, blocking out the dismal room and the sight of Hoss, his head drooping against his shoulder, only to have the image of Adam's face appear in her mind. A sob escaped from deep inside her. _I . . . love you. I think, more now than ever. How is that possible? If I close my eyes, I can feel the fabric of your shirt against my cheek. As I breathe, I smell your scent, masculine and earthy. If I listen, I hear your heart beating in rhythm with mine._

The clunk of something quite heavy and hard colliding with shattering glass jolted Mercy from her daydream. Low mumbling echoed from the kitchen, and for a moment she thought Stu's absence may ensure their safety. But as the frantic burble grew louder, all hope was lost, snuffed out like the flame of a nearby candle whose smoke lilted then faded into the darkness as Stu's shadow passed by. Terrified, Mercy cowered on the bed, her mind conjuring images to match the wailings of a madman.

"This is rightfully mine!" he shouted. "I did all the work, followed all their rules! Even took a tanning from my father 'cause I was studyin' on this instead o' finishin' my chores!" In his hand, trembling with fear and anger, Stu held a small, pine-carved trophy. The star, seated atop a five inch by seven inch block of wood, had been veiled for nearly fifteen years behind a sturdy cabinet, beneath a loosened floorboard in the Weaver kitchen.

With no more ancient, hidden whiskey bottles to be found, Stu's raging moments earlier had sent the cabinet toppling to the floor. Shards of glass and thick splinters of wood now dotted the dust covered floor. Even in his stupor, he noticed the warped board along the wall and the memory of him sneaking, years ago, into the kitchen late one evening flooded his mind.

The trophy had been awarded to the student at the Virginia City school who had written the best essay for the Founder's Day Celebration. And although Stu had spent countless hours on his composition, the result was deemed worthy of second place. The winner announced that day at the celebration was Adam Cartwright.

Stu had watched, his emotions seething, as the people of Virginia City applauded the decision, showering Adam with the praise and admiration Stu felt he alone deserved. And later that day, when the trophy had mysteriously disappeared from the Cartwrights' buckboard, Stu was infuriated by the outpouring of consolation for the talented young writer.

And now, years later, the warped floorboard revealed a long-forgotten reminder of Adam and his successes as well as Stu and his failures, and the strange, malicious voices that had controlled much of Stu's life returned, their words a jumble of hatred and ridicule.

As Mercy listened, the mayhem in the kitchen continued, each crash seemingly more violent than the last, as Stu destroyed what had been abandoned in his kitchen. Relieved that he was liberating himself of some of his demons by smashing things instead of hurting Hoss or herself, Mercy listened carefully as her captor's emotions imploded.

"NEVER! I was NEVER good enough for you, was I father?" Stu yelled. "Not smart enough. Not handsome enough. Not kind enough. Not successful enough. Not . . . not a Cartwright! Not Prince Adam!"

Mercy flinched at the thunderous booming sound that followed. _He's mad and he's destroying everything!_

"Quiet! QUIET!" Stu cried. "I told you not to speak to me again! EVER!"

Another crash - breaking glass - and then an eerie, ever-changing tone of voice made Mercy's skin crawl.

"Why won't you stop talking to me? I have to pay attention to the teacher. If I don't, she'll tell my papa 'n' he'll tan my hide! Shh! All of you, stop talking! I have to listen!"

Mercy's heart raced as she listened to Stu's mind crumbling in the next room.

"Why do I have to do that? Why do you want me to hurt him? If I steal something, do I still have to hurt him? . . . I don't wanna! His brother will come after me again! Shh! Don't tell me I HAVE to. You can't tell me I HAVE to! Show yourselves! All of you! Why are you whispering? What are you gonna do to me?"

Mercy shivered. _I thought he was capable of anything before. Dear God, what will he be capable of now?_ Frantically, she searched the room._ Hoss. I have to get to Hoss._

Another incoherent cry from the kitchen reached beyond the pounding in Hoss's unconscious mind. He stirred, the movement stabbing against the back of his neck.

"Hoss!" Mercy whispered, dropping her feet to the floor and leaning as far forward as her restraints permitted. "Hoss, can you hear me?"

He licked his lips, flinching as his tongue made contact with the split and tasted the blood still running from it. He tensed his arms against the ropes, forgetting in the moment that he'd been securely bound. His eyes opened, slowly, squinting in the darkened room as he endeavored to focus.

"Hoss! Don't try to move. You're tied and pretty badly hurt," Mercy said. "Stu's in another room. Hoss, he's gone mad! He's talking to himself and smashing things. Hoss? Hoss, can you hear me?"

"Yes'im," Hoss moaned. "Did he hurtcha while I was out?"

Astonished that his first thought was of her condition, Mercy's heart warmed to the man Adam proudly called brother. "No, Hoss. He didn't," she assured. "He's been in that room for quite a while now. I don't know how much longer it'll be before he comes back in here. What can we do?"

Hoss tested the ropes binding his ankles. Mercy watched as he wiggled his feet against one another, hoping to loosen the hold. The sound of footsteps, heavy and erratic, filled them both with dread.

"Mercy!" Hoss whispered quickly. "Whatever happens, you run when ya can, ya hear me? Git ta my horse. He's out in the front, 'bout twenty yards from the house."

"But, Hoss . . ."

"Do as I say! Git to my horse, his name's Chubb. Git in the saddle and tell him ta go home! And don't look back."

"But . . ."

"JIST DO IT!"

"Well, lookie here," Stu slurred as he wobbled into the room, tossing the trophy aside. "Fat Hoss is all finished with his nap! Now maybe ole Stu can have a little fun."

Mercy stared, fearful eyes glistening with tears, as he slithered across the room, bumping against the small table. He fumbled with the knob on the lamp, turning it up before falling against the bed. Mercy shrieked as he landed alongside her, his stench lending to the bile already rising in her throat.

"Well, now, Miss Mercy Kinkead," he muttered, "let's have a little kiss."

As he leaned against her, she yanked with astounding strength at the handcuffs trapping her. She shuddered as his lips pressed against hers while his hands roamed her neck and bared shoulders. She cried at his assault, shrinking back against the wall as he leaned against her.

Hoss's breaths came in heaving gusts, puffing his cheeks. _I gotta git him away from her. I gotta find a . . . _Hoss grinned. "Adam wouldn't need handcuffs ta take a woman," he yelled.

"SHUT UP, HOSS!"

"Mercy, you know Adam. Tell old Stu here that Adam likes his women ta touch him back," Hoss ordered, the words stinging as they flowed from his mouth. _Please, Mercy. Play along. It could be our only chance._

"HOSS!" she shouted, appalled by his declaration.

A strong, gusty breeze from the opened back door weaved its way through the room, encouraging the cracked lamp to flare in a burst of light that filled the room for mere seconds - seconds that allowed unspoken signals from Hoss's eyes to Mercy's.

"Tell him, Mercy! Adam would NEVER have his way with a gal who couldn't . . . return the pleasure," Hoss said, spitting the words from his mouth.

Mercy's nod was imperceptible to Stu as he kissed her neck, his hot breath attacking her skin.

"That's right, Stu," she whispered, her voice quivering and broken. "Adam would let me loose so I could . . . please him the way . . . he was pleasing me." Mercy swallowed bile, nearly choking as she did.

Stu raised himself to his knees, a sick grin covering his face. He reached into his pocket for the key and hurriedly unlocked the cuffs, letting Mercy's numbed hands fall, her wrists bleeding and swollen.

"Now you behave, little lady," Stu said, "and we'll have ourselves a real nice time while Fat Hoss watches!" Stu snickered at the thought. "Bet Adam never letcha watch, did he?"

Hoss gagged as his stomach roiled. "No, he didn't. But I can't see real good from here, Stu," Hoss said. "I really wanna see, Stu. So's I kin tell Adam whatcha did to his girl. You want me ta tell Adam, don'tcha Stu?"

Mercy, rubbing her wrists, willed herself to look at Hoss. She saw the loathing on his face, the desperation in his eyes and the tension in his body as he readied himself to make a move.

"All I need is ta move over a bit, Stu. Just ta move this here chair a little to the left. Then I kin see all you're gonna do to that gal, Stu. 'N' I'll be shore ta tell Adam ev'ry last detail."

Stu pushed himself off the bed, grabbing Mercy by the wrist as he did. She cried out as his fingers squeezed the cuts and gashed along her skin. He stepped toward Hoss and locked his ankle behind one of the chair's legs, pulling in vain to drag it and Hoss to the left.

"NOW!" Hoss shouted as he tilted with all of his weight, taking Stu, himself and the chair to the floor.

Mercy ran for the front door, flung it open and dashed across the yard toward the figure of a horse in the brush. Behind her, she could hear the scuffle - moaning, grunting and vulgar words. She swung herself into Hoss's saddle and opened her mouth to speak. Hesitating, she looked back at the house and at the shadows dancing in the curtained window as the fracas continued. _"Git to my horse . . . Git in the saddle and tell him ta go home! Don't look back."_ The words resonated painfully in her mind. Tears fell, their warmth cooling in streaks down her face as the breeze blew across her body. "I can't leave him," she whispered. "What if I can't get help in time?" Mercy dismounted, tossing her instructions aside, hoping to save Adam's brother. "I have to . . ."

A gunshot echoed in the sudden stillness. Chubb twitched, pulling the rein out of her hand.

"Hoss!" Mercy raced toward the silent house, her mind reeling with fear. Her body lurched, nearly toppling over when a shadowed figure appeared in the doorway and fell forward, catching himself on the porch post.

"NO!" Mercy cried.


	51. Chapter 51

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

"Wonder what that's about, boy?" Adam asked, patting his startled horse. "I didn't think anyone had been living out this way since Mr. Weaver passed."

Adam peered into the darkness, scanning the silhouetted landscape in the direction of the gunshot. He'd been riding for more than an hour and in the nighttime, open-range silence he'd become accustomed to hearing the occasional rustle of critter feet through the thick, dry brush and the frequent bay of a mother wolf singing sweetly to her mate and her cubs. Though the curious need for a timely return home to the Ponderosa still disconcerted him, Adam couldn't ignore the sound of a gunshot at that hour of the night.

"Let's go have a look, boy."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Can you see anyone, Carrie" Ben asked, holding his pistol at the ready as Alyssa hurried to lower the wicks in the guest room lamps.

"No," Carrie answered from the great room window. "It sounds like a buggy and I hear two horses."

"I can't imagine who would be paying a visit at this hour," Ben responded, frustrated with the limitations caused by his wound.

Joe lifted his arm, turning slowly onto his side. "Pa, I'll take a look . . ."

"Joseph! You stay right there in that bed!" Ben said firmly.

"But, Pa!"

"Wait! I can see a buggy and . . . it's a double-seater," Carrie said. "It's Doctor Martin! And he's got someone in the buggy with him and . . . and it's Sheriff Coffee riding alongside!"

Ben exhaled loudly, unaware he'd been holding his breath for some time. His relief quickly blended with apprehension as he wondered what could possibly bring the doctor and the sheriff to the ranch. _Could someone have found Mercy before Hoss did? Or has something happened to them both? And who is with them?_

Joe closed his eyes and relaxed, letting his full weight collapse heavily into the mattress and pillows. When he opened them, the look on his father's face stiffened his muscles once again. _This must have something to do with Stu._

Alyssa raised the lamp she'd just lowered and started for the others out in the great room. Carrie's exclamation startled her and she froze in place just at the guest room threshold.

"Mr. Cartwright!" Carrie shouted as she ran into the room. "The doctor and the sheriff . . . They've brought Mrs. Brighton and the children with them! Danny, Mary, and AnnaLynn! They're here!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The enthusiastic trip from Virginia City had dwindled over time to a sleepy buggy ride. Danny's and Mary's chatter served to delight Mrs. Brighton and Doctor Martin, though thoughts of Stu Weaver and those he might choose to harm were, at best, held just below the surface. AnnaLynn, quite savvy for a girl of twelve and a half, was not as successful at hiding her true concerns.

By the time they'd reached the ranch, all three children were fast asleep, their heads leaning against one another. Danny, his hair once again going every which way, had wrapped his left arm around Mary, cuddling against her as they rode and eventually slept. AnnaLynn, once resigned to the fatigue of the day, had in turn placed her right arm around both children. Mary, seated between her protectors, her feet dangling beneath the blanket that covered them all, clung tightly to her dolly.

AnnaLynn stirred when the buggy came to a halt. Moonlight illuminated the house, and she was embarrassed when she realized she sat gaping at its grandeur.

"Can you manage Mary?" Paul asked Mrs. Brighton. "And I'll get Danny."

Paul glanced at Roy before nodding toward the house. "And the sheriff can go on ahead and let them know we've arrived."

Roy hurried to the door, knocking twice before it was opened. Paul and Mrs. Brighton watched from a distance as Roy was greeted by Carrie and immediately invited inside.

"Everyone's in the guest bedroom, Sheriff Coffee," Carrie said. "I'll go out and help with the children."

"In here, Roy," Ben called. "What's happened?"

"Joe? What happened to you?" Roy asked, unaware of Joe's encounter with Stu. "And where's Miss Kinkead? Paul said she was here!"

"We can explain all of that and find out why you're all here after we get those children inside," Ben advised. "Suffice it to say, for now, that Stu Weaver poses a threat to everyone here, as well as Mercy, Hoss, and Adam."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was quickly decided that to avoid frightening the two younger children, Joe would remain in the bedroom, his more obvious bandaged wounds temporarily hidden from the young ones' eyes. They agreed that should Danny and Mary awaken as they were carried to a bedroom upstairs, they'd be told that Mercy had gone on a walk with one of the sons of the man on the school board and that she would be pleased were she to return to the house to find them asleep in the bedroom they would share with AnnaLynn and Mrs. Brighton. As soon as the children were settled in their room, the adults and AnnaLynn would come together and more decisions would be made.

Alyssa hurriedly readied one of the upstairs guest rooms, turning down the bed where a sleeping Danny and Mary would be placed. She then rushed outside, signaling that all was ready.

Luckily, neither Danny nor Mary awoke as they were lifted from the buggy and carried inside. AnnaLynn, frightened by Miss Kinkead's absence at the ranch, followed Mrs. Brighton and Doctor Martin as they climbed the grand staircase of the Ponderosa.

Carrie was the last one to enter, closing and latching the door behind her. Much to her surprise, Ben had made his way from the guest room to the great room and had stood stoically at the doorway to greet his guests.

"Are you all right?" she whispered as she followed behind the group.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I'm all right, dear," Ben said matter-of-factly, his eyes beaming at the sight of the three children Adam had told him so much about.

"Soon, he'll call them his grandchildren," Carrie thought. "And how lucky they will be."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

While Mrs. Brighton and AnnaLynn saw to the children upstairs, Paul and Carrie carefully examined Joe's injuries.

"Carrie, looks to me like you did a fine job," Paul admitted. "How's the shoulder, Joe?"

"Doesn't hurt much at all, Doc. It sure did before, though!"

"Dislocated shoulders are pretty bad," Paul added. "You say Hoss helped to slip it back into place?"

"Yeah," Joe replied, his mind drifting instantly to the questions at hand. Where was Hoss? Had he found Mercy? And why weren't they back yet?

"Paul?" Ben interrupted. "As soon as you're finished, we need to talk this through and the sooner we get started, the better."

"I'm finished now, Ben. But I'd like to check under your bandages . . ."

"There'll be time for that later," Ben insisted. "Can Joe make it out into the living room or should we gather in here?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Joe shifted uncomfortably under the watchful eyes of Ben, Paul, and Carrie. His shoulder ached no matter his position and his leg throbbed as if he'd been trampled by one of their prize steers. Yet he had insisted, with the support of both Roy and Paul, on making his way to the settee.

Ben's chest stung with alternating twinges of fire and stabbing threads of flame. For his own purposes as well as those of being the ever attentive host no matter the circumstances, he'd offered brandy to the other adults and all had accepted save for Mrs. Brighton and Carrie. Turning to shield his actions from watchful eyes, Ben poured himself a second glass, hoping to ease the pain he fought to suppress.

Mrs. Brighton sat next to AnnaLynn, knowing the girl would soon learn some shocking information - that Adam had survived the blaze at the orphanage. She wondered just how long the girl's patience would hold with the secrecy and suddenness of the events of the evening.

At Ben's nod, Mrs. Brighton made an introduction that AnnaLynn would never forget. "AnnaLynn," Mrs. Brighton began, "I'd like you to meet the school board member who's invited us all to visit his ranch. AnnaLynn, this is Mr. Cartwright. Mr. Ben Cartwright."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," AnnaLynn said, rising to face Ben's towering form.

"The pleasure is all mine, AnnaLynn," Ben replied, his voice catching on every word. "I must tell you, dear, that I am . . ."

"Pardon me for interrupting, sir," AnnaLynn said, "but I already know. Miss Kinkead told me about you when I arrived in Virginia City. You are Mr. Adam's father."

Surprised by her statement, Ben steadied himself against his burgundy chair. "That's right, dear . . ."

AnnaLynn lowered her eyes. "And Miss Kinkead came here today to deliver some news to you and your sons."

"She thinks Mercy came here and told us that Adam is dead!" Ben realized.

"Please, AnnaLynn," Mrs. Brighton said, "won't you sit here next to me and listen to what Mr. Cartwright has to tell you?"

AnnaLynn did as she was asked, wedging herself between Joe and Mrs. Brighton on the settee. Suddenly, the gentleman who'd towered over her when she was standing became an even more imposing figure. She looked up at him, her green eyes scrutinizing his softening face.

Ben smiled at the young girl as he gingerly lowered himself to the table. "AnnaLynn, what I have to tell you is wonderful news, so there is no need to mince words or look for a delicate way to say it. You see, my dear, my son, Mr. Adam, did not perish in the fire at the orphanage. He is very much alive and well."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"NO!" Mercy cried, not knowing which direction would lead her to an escape.

Stu released the post he'd clung to and stepped out into the yard. "You and Fat Hoss shouldn't oughtta have done that!" he yelled.

Mercy turned and ran to Chubb, slamming her foot into the stirrup and swinging her leg around his wide body.

"You ain't goin' nowhere!" Stu hollered as he lunged forward, catching her foot and dragging her from the saddle.

Mercy hit the ground hard, groaning as her wrist popped from the impact. "LET ME GO!"

"I ain't finished with you, sweetheart!" he yelled, pulling her roughly to her feet. "You and your little trick got me a broken nose and went and got ole Fat Hoss a bullet!"

"NO! HOSS!" she cried.

"And somebody's gonna pay for that and it looks like that somebody's YOU!" Stu slapped Chubb, leaving Mercy to watch, helplessly, as the horse galloped into the blackness of the night.

With his fingers painfully gripping her arm, Stu dragged her to the barn, hefted her onto his horse and tied her broken wrist to the saddle horn.

"Please," she sobbed, tears flowing along her bruised face, "let me help Hoss!"

"You ain't gonna help Hoss 'cause Hoss is dead!"

"How can you be sure?" Mercy asked.

"'Cause if he ain't dead now, he will be. See, ain't nobody gonna find him for days all the way out here! Tied up 'n' bleedin' the way he is, he'll be dead before daylight!"

"Oh, Hoss," Mercy cried. "I'm so sorry."

"OH, Hoss, I'm so sorry," Stu mocked as he swung himself into the saddle, his body wedged against hers.

Mercy's blood ran cold. Her mind tangled with bits and pieces of fact and fiction, past and present, reality and the unknown. So lost in her own turmoil, she seemed unaware that they were moving, riding together away from the house, away from Hoss and whatever fate had claimed him. And even if she had shaken the internal turbulence, she would not have recognized that Stu was traveling along the road to the Ponderosa.


	52. Chapter 52

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

"Easy, boy," Adam whispered, his low, calming voice carried briefly by the warm evening breeze.

Concerned by the unexpected sound of a gunshot and left uneasy since his first glimpse of faint shadows dancing in the dim lamp light in the long ago abandoned Weaver homestead, Adam had dismounted and cautiously led Sport closer to the ramshackle building. After taking care to secure his horse, he crouched, shrinking his form against the side of the barn, his right hand at the ready near the grip of his pistol. Cocking his head, he listened intently, convinced of sounds coming from the house. Instantly, he heard muffled grunts and groans, some strong and anger-filled and others, stifled with a touch of suffering.

Adam crept closer, each ghostly movement of the lamp's radiance necessitating yet another duck and pause. The stillness of the night echoed in the momentary silences, alternating with more growls and heavy breathing from inside. When he reached the dilapidated porch, the wafting breeze conjured a misshapen shadow floating past the window, triggering an adrenaline rush that sent Adam diving for the protection of a nearby bush.

"DADGUMMIT!"

"Hoss?" Adam whispered, bewildered to hear the familiar tones of his brother's voice. "What the . . ."

Creeping warily toward the front door, Adam heard the voice again.

"Dadburned ropes . . ."

Springing to his full height, Adam, pistol drawn, burst through the doorway. Across the room, stooping precariously on one knee, was the silhouetted form of a large, muscular man.

"Hoss," Adam cried, "what's going on here?"

Hoss spun on his heels, sweat dripping from his pained face. "Adam?"

"Hoss! You've been shot!" Adam gasped, rushing to his brother's side, all the while scanning the room for Hoss's assaulter.

"It ain't too bad, Adam. And the one who done it ain't here," Hoss muttered, clearly in pain. "Untie me. We gotta git movin'."

While Adam's hands worked deftly at the ropes binding Hoss, his eyes assessed the bullet hole in his brother's thigh.

"Hoss, what the hell is going on? Who did this to you?" Adam quickly removed his belt and wound it tightly around Hoss's thigh several inches above the wound. As he pulled the leather securely, Hoss groaned. "Sorry," Adam said as he ripped the left sleeve from his shirt to bandage the bleeding leg. "Can you tell me what's happened?"

Hoss inhaled deeply, the pain in his leg a mere afterthought to the task at hand. His mind raced, the weight of his forthcoming words crashing down against him and closing in around him. His stomach roiled with the thought that the facts he was about to lay before his older brother would change Adam's life forever. "Adam," he said reverently. "I got somethin' ta tell ya 'n' it ain't gonna go down real easy-like. So I need ya to listen. Jist listen. 'Cause we got somethin' we gotta git to real quick."

Adam's impatience was quickly leading to ominous thoughts. "Alright, Hoss. I'm listening."

"Ain't no way ta make it sound believable but ta say it outright. I ain't never lied to ya, Adam, 'n' I ain't lyin' now."

"Hoss, you're scaring me."

"You got a right ta be scared, Adam," Hoss said, his eyes intense and focused in the lamp light. _We all do._

Hoss inhaled and held his breath. It was of little comfort, but satisfied his need to have complete control over something, anything, in the room at that moment. "Adam, your Mercy is alive. The children are, too. By some miracle, they didn't die in that fire."

Adam's face grew hot as a tingle surged from his head to his neck and settled in his torso. Balance was lost to him and he tumbled backward, his haunches collapsing. The already darkened room tunneled as a deathly blackness threatened his vision and night sounds faded, replaced by the rhythmic whishing of his heartbeat throbbing in his ears. He swallowed, hard, his parched throat reacting with a razor-sharp stab. His head swayed, his eyes raised, and he labored to focus on the face of a man he trusted implicitly. "Hoss, I don't know why you would . . ."

"You said you'd jist listen, Adam," Hoss said. "Now, how 'bout sittin' down before ya fall down."

Adam sat on the floor of the Weaver house, his mouth agape, his heart beating loudly in his ears as Hoss hurriedly delivered the facts leading up to that evening.

Adam paled as Hoss spoke, and as he came to the moments just before Adam had arrived, he held his breath and shook his head.

"And Stu has her, Adam," Hoss explained. "He done took her 'bout fifteen minutes before you came. We gotta pick up their trail. We gotta go NOW, Adam! Ain't no telling' what he might do."

Adam shook his head, hoping bits and pieces of the sentences he'd just heard might connect to one another in some rational way. His mind suddenly became jumbled as details of the fire and his desperate search for the four people he loved flooded his vision in a blurred cascade of memories. _Mercy? The children? Alive? And they think I'm dead?_ He blinked away threatening tears, the murkiness of his vision clearing as he realized that Hoss had managed to stand. He reached for his brother's extended hand, clasping it firmly as he was pulled to his feet. "Hoss, I . . ."

"I kin only imagine," Hoss said, staring into the eyes of his brother, hoping that the voice behind them still belonged to Adam. "We hafta find them. If only we knew where they was headed."

Adam lurched. Hoss moved with lightening speed, grabbing Adam's shoulders and leading him to the bed. Adam rocked back and forth, his head in his hands.

Hoss lowered him to the bed._ Stay with me, Adam! Mercy needs ya more now than ever! And if anything should happen, those kids are gonna need ya even more._

Adam waged a private war against the voices shouting in his head. He repeated her name over and over again until the thumping veins in his neck slowed and his lungs once again accepted precious air. He dared to open his eyes, peering cautiously between his fingers. Suddenly, he caught sight of an oddly familiar object beneath the table across the room. "What the . . . He stood and pushed past Hoss, diving at the table. He knelt and retrieved the now-broken trophy he'd won as a child.

"Adam, what is it?" Hoss asked, limping to his brother's side.

"I think I know where Stu's headed," Adam announced. "Let's go!" Adam dashed out the front door, slowing as he stepped off the porch and realized that Hoss wasn't able to keep up.

"Adam, you go on! Chubb don't seem ta be around . . ."

Just then, Chubb came into view and trotted up to the heavy brush, settling in next to his friend.

"Well, I'll be!" Hoss muttered.

"Think you can ride?" Adam asked.

"You bet I can!"

Moments later, Adam and Hoss raced toward the Ponderosa.

Adam was dazed, his head and pulse pounding with every step_. Mercy, alive. How? Danny, AnnaLynn, and Mary? Can it really be true?_

As they rode, Adam glanced at Hoss, his white hat illuminated in the starlight. An almost imperceptible nod was all the conversation the brothers required. Both Sport and Chubb, sensing the urgency, galloped faster with nary a command from their riders. Adam smiled. Hoss reciprocated with a grin.

"It's true," Adam thought. "Hoss wouldn't . . . couldn't . . . They really are alive! And they're here in Virginia City! Please, hang on, Mercy. I'm coming!"


	53. Chapter 53

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

"I really should go upstairs," AnnaLynn suggested, "just in case Danny or Mary wake up. They're together, so that will be a comfort. But they are in a strange room and Miss Kinkead is . . . I really should be there, in case."

Before anyone could respond, AnnaLynn jumped to her feet and started for the staircase, pausing just before her left boot hit the first step.

"Please, excuse me," she added, her smiling eyes only just hiding her fear.

"Mrs. Brighton," Ben said, steadying himself with the arm of his chair, "maybe we should give the child a little time to process all she's discovered this evening."

"Perhaps you're right, Mr. Cartwright," she replied, returning to the settee.

Paul, scrutinizing Ben's condition, moved to a chair closer to both of his patients.

"She seems like a very strong young girl," Joe said.

"Oh, she is," Mrs. Brighton agreed. "Has Adam told you her story?"

"Yes, he has," Ben said, his eyes cast upward to the top of the staircase. "She's seen more tragedy than any child should be expected to see. They all have."

"And now this," Joe added, unmistakable tones of anger and guilt in his voice.

"Joseph," Ben said, slowly walking to the chair, placing a reassuring hand on Joe's shoulder, "you did all you could to prevent this. You couldn't have known just how far Stu would go; what was festering so tightly inside him that he'd . . . he'd . . ." Ben slumped and staggered, nearly collapsing onto Joe.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The wooden knob turned, silently returning the dead latch into its home. AnnaLynn released her grip on the knob and spun around, leaning heavily against the sturdy bedroom door. The low lamp light glowed throughout the spacious room, casting peaceful silhouettes on the sleeping children. AnnaLynn blinked, over and over, her efforts failing to check the tears brimming in her light green eyes. She surrendered to their onslaught, allowing them to flow freely as she stepped softly toward the make-shift bed on the floor. Mattresses, pillows, and blankets lay side by side, providing a comfortable sleeping place for AnnaLynn next to Danny and Mary.

The empty bed across the room caught AnnaLynn's focus; the bed, prepared so swiftly upon their arrival, was meant for Miss Kinkead. AnnaLynn tiptoed to the bed, reaching out to touch the pillow at its head. With her index finger, she gently traced the delicate embroidery and cross-stitch design covering the lace trimmed sham; five lovely, yellow roses.

_How did all of this happen? You were doing the right thing, honoring Mr. Adam's memory . . . And now, Mr. Adam's alive! Oh, when Danny and Mary learn this, I can only imagine their joy! They've missed him so. I've missed him. He's more than a mentor or a guardian. He's . . . Oh, Miss Kinkead, Mama, please be all right! We need you more than you know! _AnnaLynn clutched the yielding pillow to her breast, sobbing quietly into the cloth, covering the thread-petals with her dewy tears. She lay on her side, grasping the cushion tightly against her body as seconds became minutes and minutes grew into an hour.

Danny stirred, mumbling a sleepy, jumbled phrase as he rolled to his side. AnnaLynn sat up and smiled as she watched as the boy's right hand found its way to his little sister's arm. When they'd fist arrived at the orphanage, AnnaLynn had spent many nights reading before bed and observing the pair as they slept, always within reach of one another. And when Danny had been teased by the other boys for sleeping with his sister, AnnaLynn had seen the young boy's torment as he struggled to protect his sister from her fears and save face in the eyes of the other children.

_"__Danny is going to be quite a man." _AnnaLynn could still hear Adam's voice saying those words. She smiled, realizing that now it would be possible for Adam to see Danny grow into the man he knew he would become. Quietly, AnnaLynn replaced the rose pillow before changing into her nightclothes. As she placed her clothing into the satchel, she removed the nightgown she'd packed for Miss Kinkead and delicately laid it atop the bed. She smoothed its sleeves as she said a silent prayer for the safe, swift return of the woman she knew would become a mother to them all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Where are you taking me?" Mercy cried.

Stu tightened his grip around her waist and leaned forward, pressing against her back as they rode. "Why, don't you recognize the scenery?" he growled, his hot breath blowing against her neck. "I'da thought Prince Adam would'a spent endless hours boring you with descriptions of the Ponderosa empire usin' them fancy poet words 'n' Shakespeare sayin's that made all the grownups 'round these parts think he was somethin' special!

Mercy's heart raced when Stu's voice suddenly turned ugly and frightening.

"Well, he ain't special! He ain't nothin'!

Mercy shuddered, the bitter taste of bile rising in her throat.

Stu spurred his horse, already at a full gallop, and the animal lurched as he increased his gait.

"Did Adam ever tell ya 'bout the line shacks on the Ponderosa?" Stu asked. "Bet he said they was just for the hands when they was stuck out here on the range or up in those precious, Cartwright mountains. Is that what he told ya?"

Mercy's silence angered Stu. He slid his hand from her waist upward, lingering on her breast before wrapping his fingers around the front of her neck. "ANSWER ME!"

Though she struggled, Mercy failed to inhale enough air to produce more than one word at a time. "He - told - me - about - them."

"Did he use them fancy words?"

Mercy gasped. "Yes."

"And I bet you got all doe-eyed listenin' to him," Stu whispered. "Bet you thought he could say anything or write anything and it'd be perfect! Just like his essay! PERFECT!" Stu squeezed harder as they rode in several moments of terrifying silence. Finally, they rode out into a small clearing. His hand slipped from Mercy's throat as he reined his horse toward the small line shack ahead. "Well, let me tell you, MY essay was the perfect one! But I'm a Weaver and not a Cartwright. I don't use all them fancy words. Mine was the one that shoulda won! Mine, I tell ya!"

Stu dismounted, loosened the rope holding Mercy's hands to the saddle horn, and then retied her hands together at the wrists. He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her roughly from the saddle and setting her heavily on her feet. "Don'tchoo worry none, Mercy," Stu said, his tone transformed to an eerie calm. "Ole Stu is gonna take good care of you. He'll make you happier than Adam ever could. After all, I'm the better man. I'm stronger, smarter. I ain't got money like them Cartwrights, but I got ways to make a woman happy, 'n' I plan on showing you how just as soon as we get inside!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_I thought I did all I could. I searched everywhere; I crawled on hands and knees; I nearly distended my fingers grasping at objects, textures, and shadows in the thick, grey smoke. I recognized things: Danny's wooden blocks, Mary's special cup, AnnaLynn's paintbrushes, the runner of your rocking chair. But I didn't find you. For months, I dreamt of those 'things', not knowing who they belonged to or why they were so important to my very existence. They were my last connection with each of you. My final . . . _

Adam shuddered. The sudden darkness blanketed the moon, haunting his memories of the smoke-filled orphanage. _Oh, Mercy. Hoss says you survived! I want to believe him, but the idea's impossible to grasp! And the children! The nightmares, Oh, God, the nightmares. Pictures painted in charcoal in my mind; pictures of them suffering, sounds conjured up by unimaginable agony as they . . . The nightmares. When I see their faces, touch them, hold them in my arms . . . will the nightmares finally end?_

Emotions penned deep inside since the evening of the fire found their escape as Adam's eyes brimmed with tears. His tense muscles compressed and constricted against Sport's body, prompting the astute steed to push on with more zeal than ever. For the first time in months, Adam allowed himself to feel, to hope, to look to his future without compunction from his past. A tug at the corners of his mouth swelled quickly to a smile. He turned to Hoss, still keeping pace abreast of him, and Adam's smile quickly wilted.

"Hoss," he yelled, "you okay?"

Hoss straightened, his performance failing to convince his older brother. "I'm fine, Adam," Hoss replied. "Are ya shore ya know where Stu's headin'? If'n yer wrong, we're wasting mighty precious time."

"First, you're not fine," Adam shouted. "You've got a nasty lump on that hard head of yours and even though that bullet to your leg went clean through, I'll wager it hurts like hell just about now."

"What'cha got fer second?" Hoss asked, his grin barely masking his concern.

"Second, I'm sure I know where Stu's heading. And when I get there, Stu Weaver's gonna pay."


	54. Chapter 54

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

The musty, earthy odor reminded her of the wild mushrooms she and Adam had often picked on the orphanage property in Canada. The two small, shuttered windows in the room gave birth to streaks of moonlight that seared the unadorned wall across the way. Lying face down on the cot, her hands bound tightly behind her back, Mercy lifted her head and peered into the darkness, searching for a path of escape.

"Damned Cartwrights!" Stu grumbled as he blindly felt along the thin fireplace mantle. "Normal people would put their matches where they can be found!" He ran his hand across the mantle, sending several things crashing to the floor before he came upon a familiar object. "'Bout time!" he said, sliding the tiny box's lid.

As the damp wick ignited, eerie figures floated on all the surfaces in the line shack. Mercy craned her neck, looking for the door she'd been brutally shoved through just moments ago. _He locked it! I'll need time to get it open._ She watched as Stu surveyed the shack, checking that the shutters had been locked in place before gathering the fireplace poker and shovel, as well as the cooking knives and tossing them out of reach beneath the cot. In the oil lamp's glow, he came across several candles which he quickly lit, adding to the ghostly ballet against the walls. Mercy tugged and twisted futilely at her bindings, careful to remain still whenever Stu's glance fell upon her. She noted that he seemed calm, as if their new surroundings shielded him from some hidden demons. He was silent and most meticulous as he inspected the room, causing the hair on the back of Mercy's neck to prickle a warning. _He's not raving anymore, but this sudden switch just doesn't bode well. If I could just get my hands free, I might be able to . . ._

"I might appear to be preoccupied with what it is I'm doin'," Stu snapped, "but believe you me, Mercy Kinkead, I am aware of your ev'ry move! You won't get those pretty little wrists of yours outta them ropes 'n' as you saw, this place is locked up real nice 'n' tight. Even if you was ta get free, you'd lose precious seconds workin' the latches 'n' locks on the windows and door. So, my dear," Stu continued, his voice suddenly husky and suggestive, "I suggest that you lie back 'n' enjoy what ole Stu has planned."

Mercy shivered, her eyes clamped tightly shut. Unconsciously, one word formed silently on her quivering lips. Adam.

Stu lowered himself onto the bed and reached for Mercy, grabbing her shoulders and turning her onto her back. He touched her forehead, brushing strands of fallen hair from her skin. With alarming tenderness, he caressed her face as she shuddered, tears creeping from the corners of her pleading eyes. With the back of his fingertips, he stroked her neck, a maniacal grin forming on his lips.

Mercy arched her body, digging her boots into the mattress and pushing herself upward on the bed.

"Just where do you think you're gonna go, now?" Stu asked, leaning forward, his hands working to release the buttons of her blouse. "We're gonna have us a real fine time in Prince Adam's line shack. A finer time than you could ever hope to git from Adam Cartwright!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sport slowed, respecting Adam's subtle, unspoken command. Chubb matched Sport's gait and followed him quietly into the brush.

"The line shack?" Hoss asked, painfully aware that until that moment, he'd failed to recognize just where they'd been heading. "Dadgummit, Adam, I didn't even realize . . ."

"Considering that lump on your head, I'm not sure how you've managed to ride let alone recognize the terrain in the dark! Do you think you can keep up?"

"You bet I can. But why the line shack, Adam?" Hoss asked as they dismounted and tethered their horses.

"It's a long story, Hoss," Adam answered. "Let's suffice it to say that Stu and I engaged in a little 'discussion' here when we were about fifteen years old. And something I saw back at the Weaver place makes me think this is where he's taken Mercy."

They slinked in relative silence, around and through the natural landscape, creeping closer and closer to the shack that they could not yet see. Concerned for his brother's well being, Hoss managed a few glimpses of Adam's face as they darted in and out of the moonlight. Though he recognized a strength and determination he'd not seen since Adam returned to the Ponderosa, he also witnessed flickers of fear and confusion.

"I asked him ta believe a pretty unbelievable story tonight," Hoss thought. "I'm not sure I'da accepted someone back from the dead. 'Specially four someones!"

Adam felt a strong, commanding hand on his shoulder. He turned to face his brother. The moonlight cast a beam of light that shone into the gentle giant's bright blue, worried eyes. Adam's heart collapsed in his chest.

"Adam," Hoss whispered, "I talked to her, 'n' she was alive when I saw her run outta the Weaver house. We gotta hurry, Adam. Stu's not jist out fer some kinda revenge. He's sick, Adam. Crazy sick. You know he hates you. 'N' he's got her, Adam. 'N' we gotta git her back!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Stu's touch left Mercy heaving for every breath. He'd unbuttoned her blouse and freed its edges from her skirt. Her mind darted from one thought to the next, each idea quickly proving its imminent failure as a means of escape.

Stu moved away, just slightly, and removed his boots, tossing them across the room. As each one slammed against the cold, plank floor, Mercy jumped, the sounds temporarily suspending her thumping heartbeat. He stood, his eyes never straying from hers, removed his gun belt and placed it on the mantle above the fireplace. He stripped off his shirt, his eyes, glazed and trance-like, never looking away from the cot where Mercy lay.

_Adam._

Stu approached the cot, swinging his right leg upward. Mercy closed her eyes and stiffened her body, screaming silently in her mind.

_Adam!_

Sounds became words and words strung together forming sentences and those sentences shouted to be heard above the beating of her racing heart and the sobbing of the soul that had been on the very brink of happiness just hours earlier. _Adam. Alive. How? Oh, Adam! I'm here. Where are you? _She heard Stu laugh and she shivered. _Joe! No, Joe! I'm sorry, Joe. The children. What will become of the children? Adam. Alive! _She felt the mattress give as Stu lowered himself next to her. _The children will have Adam. Hoss? Oh, Adam, Hoss is dead! I'm sorry! Mr. Cartwright, your son is . . . He died bravely, risking his life for me. Not Adam! Hoss! Maybe Joe, too? Two sons, dead? Adam. Alive! ADAM!_

Sable-brown eyes, filled with anger and desperation, sprung wide open. Held fast to the cot by a sickening, heavy weight, Mercy garnered strength from the faces in her mind - Mary, Danny, AnnaLynn, Joe, Hoss, Mr. Cartwright, and Adam. She inhaled, clenched her jaw and heaved her body upward. "NO!" she screamed as her forehead smashed violently against Stu's nose and her knee assaulted his groin.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Adam?" Hoss whispered.

"Yeah Hoss, I heard!"

All cautious stealth was lost as Adam and Hoss raced through the brush toward the line shack in the distance.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Stu rolled from side to side, his agonizing cry lost to Mercy's determination. She managed to slide away from him, toppling from the cot and landing hard against the floor. Her wrists, bruised and bleeding, writhed against the rope as she rolled away from the cot and battled to stand.

Blood trickling from his swollen, broken nose, a stunned Stu Weaver sat on the edge of the cot coddling his offended pride. "You bitch!" he cried, his voice shaking Mercy's very center. "When I'm through with you, no one's gonna recognize that pretty face of yours!"

Rising to her feet, Mercy painfully freed her hands, maintaining the ruse for Stu's benefit. Slowly, she backed toward the line shack door, her breath fighting for freedom from her lungs. Her eyes, wild with panic, glared at the man seated on the cot. She glanced away briefly to judge her distance from the door when the heel of her left boot became caught-up in the fibers of a small rug. Mercy staggered and Stu leaped to his feet, lunging toward her. Mercy backed into a table, knocking the items on it to the floor. A book, a pipe stand, and two burning candles landed unnoticed atop the small, woven rug.


	55. Chapter 55

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

"Pa!" Joe exclaimed, reaching for his father's arm as Ben teetered next to the settee.

Paul and Carrie hastened to Ben's side, guiding him into the nearest chair. Ben flinched as he was lowered onto the seat, his gasped breaths hissing between clenched teeth.

"I'll get some water!" Alyssa said, rushing toward the kitchen.

"I'm fine, Paul! Stop fussing . . ." Ben yelled, immediately regretting the sharp, stabbing pain his outburst created.

"You are not fine!" Paul retorted as he opened Ben's shirt to reveal a blood-stained bandage.

"Oh, my!" Mrs. Brighton shrieked, looking away from Ben and his wound.

"Please, all of you," Carrie said, her soothing voice a sharp contrast to Paul's, "keep your voices down. You might frighten the children."

"I'll go up and check on them," Alyssa said as she handed a glass of water to Carrie.

Joe leaned left and right, stretching his neck upward and peering past the bodies gathered around his father. "Is he alright?"

"I'm fine, Joseph," Ben said, "and please don't talk about me as if I'm not in the room!"

Relieved by his father's feisty reply, Joe sat back on the settee and waited patiently for Paul's diagnosis.

"Ben, you are going to be fine," Paul announced, "but only if you stop moving about as if you'd never been shot in the chest! I don't know how, but you haven't pulled any stitches loose."

"But he's bleeding!" Mrs. Brighton said.

"He certainly is!" Paul added, his patience wearing thin.

"Again," Ben snarled, "I am in the room!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Cartwright," Mrs. Brighton mumbled.

Joe glanced across the room at Roy who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. A quiet chuckle escaped Joe's lips, bringing a harsh glance from Carrie. Quickly, Joe stifled the grin forming on his lips and looked up at Carrie with feigned reprehension in his dancing, green eyes.

Carrie couldn't resist smiling back at the pathetic excuse for an apology. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to Ben and Paul's redressing of his wound.

"Ben," Paul said, his voice filled with authority, "if you so much as attempt to stand up from this chair unassisted, I may be so inclined as to open my ether bottle and hold it under your nose!"

"And if that don't work," Roy added, "just load him inta the buckboard and bring him on inta the jail. We'll tie him to one of the cots 'n' lock him up for his own good!"

"I AM . . ." Ben shouted, meeting with a warning look from Carrie, "in the room!" he finished, his voice reduced to a frustrated whisper.

Joe, Carrie, and Roy giggled. Mrs. Brighton resorted to covering her mouth with her handkerchief. Even Paul felt a smile creeping across his face as he tied the bandage ends in place.

"Ben, you listen to Paul and Miss Carrie," Roy ordered, shaking his finger at his friend. "Now that those children are safe 'n' sound here on the Ponderosa, I'm gonna head back out to see if I can pick up a trail from Stu 'n' Miss Kinkead or Hoss."

"Roy, what can you expect to find in the dark?" Joe asked.

Roy shook his head as he walked to the door. "I don't know, Joe, but I can't stand around here any longer. I had to be sure them kids was looked after, 'n' I know you 'n' yer Pa will see to that."

Mrs. Brighton cleared her throat.

"Oh, and you too, Mrs. Brighton," Roy added, "'n' Miss Carrie 'n' Miss Alyssa as well. Seems like them youngins are about as safe here as they could be anywhere!"

"Roy, I'll be here, too," Paul said. "I left word in town that I'd be out here until further notice."

"All right, then," Roy agreed. "I'll be on my way. I'll let you know what I find, Ben."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Once again, Stu lunged for Mercy as her ankle turned, sending her sprawling to the floor. She kicked her legs, struggling to loosen her heel from the rug. Stu toppled onto her and grabbed her by the waist, still unaware that she'd freed her hands.

"Get off me!" she screamed, shoving the heels of her hands against his eyes. She looked away and heard Stu let out a deafening moan.

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him before drawing his arm back and slapping her tear-stained face. "YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" he shrieked. "You have no manners, Mercy Kinkead! And a woman with no manners is nothing but a whore!" For a second time, Stu drew back and struck her face, leaving a stream of blood trickling from her lips. "My father said that whores need to be taught a lesson!" he cried as he wrapped his fingers tightly around her neck. "And that," he said, his tone suddenly transforming to that of a young boy, "Papa, is what I'm gonna do. I'll teach this one a lesson, Papa. You'll see. She'll have manners when I'm through with her. You'll see!"

_Oh, God, please help me! I don't know what to . . . _Mercy fought for every breath as Stu held her neck in his grip. _Think, Mercy! Think!_

Her eyes left his as an orange glow illuminated his head. The aura flickered in an eerie ballet that suddenly burst into a rising flame behind him.

_Oh, no! _"Fire!" she sputtered, her voice chopped and forced against the pressure of Stu's hand.

Stu ignored her whispered warning. "Don't try to trick me, whore! See Papa, I can't be fooled. Not this time!"

The flames, ravenously eating their way across the floor in the dry, musty line shack, were invisible to Stu's tormented mind.

"Fire!" she whispered again, watching in helpless horror as the blaze crawled upward, searing the wooden shutters on the windows and quickly filling the shack with blinding smoke.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Adam," Hoss said, "do ya smell that?"

Adam froze, lifting his head in the air. "Hoss, I don't smell . . . SMOKE!"

Hoss craned his neck, looking toward the ghostly light in the distance.

"THE LINE SHACK!" Adam cried. "IT'S ON FIRE!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Roy tilted the small oil lamp he'd borrowed from the Cartwrights' barn. He was able to make out a set of tracks that seemed to indicate two riders on one horse and another set that no doubt belonged to Hoss. _The only thing down that way is the old Weaver homestead. That must be where Stu took Miss Kinkead, 'n' it looks like Hoss went that way, too._

Roy lowered the wick and blew out the lamp, hung it securely on his saddle and mounted his horse. The unfamiliar feel of the lamp hanging against it's hide frightened the mare and she twisted to the left in an effort to shake the feeling away. Roy steadied her, his calming voice reassuring in the darkness of the night. Facing in the wrong direction, he sat tall in the saddle and pulled on the reins to right his mount. "What in the world?" he said. "Now, what's over that way, girl?" Staring into the distance, Roy studied his mental map. "A line shack! One of the Cartwright line shacks! And it's on fire!"

Roy spurred his mount to a full gallop, racing away from the Weaver homestead and toward the burning shack.


	56. Chapter 56

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

Each miraculous breath resulted in an additional, precious second of life. But at the same time, those same gripping moments proved to be the source of agonizing, charring pain in Mercy Kinkead's lungs. The flames had traveled quickly, harvesting strength and purpose from the dry, weathered furniture and long ago abandoned belongings. Dense smoke, shrouding the one room shack, shifted upward and outward giving liberty to mounting peaks of fiery orange and yellow. Mercy choked against Stu's grip, her neck twisted to the left beneath his grasp.

"Fi-re," she sputtered again, hoping to connect with some rational corner of Stu's mind.

"DO NOT TRY TO TRICK ME!" he screamed, coughing violently as the smoke burned in his throat. "If there was a fire, I would see it! And all I see is someone Adam Cartwright cares for. Someone he loves." Stu's anger seized his throat, leaving him gasping for every breath. "Someone who . . . is about to . . .be mine!"

Releasing his hold on her neck, Stu seized what remained of the neck-line of her blouse and with several violent strokes, shredded the fabric and tossed it aside. Vile laughter rose in his throat as he tossed his head back and forth. "Papa," he shouted at the ceiling. "I'm gonna have Prince Adam's woman right here in the Cartwrights' line shack!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A slight movement in the shadows ahead caused Roy Coffee to slow his mare as he sped toward the flame-lit sky above the line shack. He approached slowly, his pistol at the ready. "I know those . . . Adam's and Hoss's horses! I thought Ben said Adam was at the lumber camp! C'mon, girl, we gotta git ta that shack! Heeya!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Can't you feel the heat?" Mercy cried. "You're choking on the smoke! Stu, the place is on fire! We have to get out of here!"

Stu drew back his powerful arm and with an impossibly more profound look of insanity, he slapped Mercy, pulled himself to his feet and dragged her across the searing rug. He yanked her to her feet, ignoring the embers that had instantly ignited several areas of her skirts, and viciously shoved her down onto the cot.

Through the dense haze, Mercy glimpsed the small flames forming at her feet. She kicked her feet and twisted her legs, trying in vain to stop their ascent as they consumed the fabric of her clothing. "I'M BURNING! HELP ME, PLEASE!"

Ignoring the flames, the smoke, and Mercy's heart wrenching pleas, Stu lowered himself onto the cot.

Only then, in the glow of the burning shack, did Mercy notice that Stu's clothing had also been inflamed. The sleeve of his shirt was nearly gone and the flesh of his forearm was singed.

"MERCY! MERCY, ARE YOU IN THERE?"

_Adam?_

"DAMN! THE DOOR'S LOCKED!"

"Move aside, Adam," Hoss screamed.

The voices, followed by a thunderous thud against the door of the line shack went unnoticed by Stu. A second thump, however, jolted him from his insane stupor.

"MERCY! MERCY, ARE YOU IN THERE?"

At once, Mercy felt Stu's hand clamping painfully against her mouth. "Not one word, bitch!" he spat.

Mercy twisted against his grasp, the heat of her smoldering skirt burning against her legs.

Stu reached with his free hand for his pistol, feeling his way along the mantle. Through the smoke, he aimed it blindly toward the voices across the way.

The smooth metal of the barrel glimmered in the fire light and Mercy shrieked against the palm of Stu's hand as he took aim in the direction of the door.

"ONE MORE OUGHTTA DO IT!" Hoss shouted as he thrust his weight against the wood, sending it flying from its hinges and into the shack.

Two shots rang out against the sudden roar of the flames. Mercy's muffled screams ended as her lungs filled with gasps of scorching hot air and the room gave way to a canvas of black.


	57. Chapter 57

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

The tall, husky figure vanished, evaporating into the dense haze surging from the shack. Instantly, flames fueled by fresh, cooler air exploded from the open doorway and into the night. Adam dodged the flares as they burst across the porch's threshold, pressing himself tightly against the front wall of the shack. A third gunshot summoned the threatening bile that had lingered in Adam's gut for hours. "HOSS!" he shouted, his voice disappearing into the roar of the blaze and the eerie, moonlit silence surrounding it.

The intense heat prickled Adam's skin, and he shielded his stinging eyes and stepped into the doorway, dodging shooting flames as best he could. "HOSS!" Adam called out, memories flashing in his mind, blinking from one captured moment in time to the next.

_The flames rocketed from the roof into the stillness of the coal black sky and my heart leaped the distance and searched inside before my feet could even move! Heat. Oh, the heat! It scorched my face with scissor-like scrapes, but I ran in, blindly scaling the weakening staircase. Danny was ill. AnnaLynn would have tucked him into bed, almost certainly remaining at his side as he slept. I remember being certain they'd be upstairs. The smoke! I held my breath until my lungs screamed in my ears. I inhaled, and my throat cried agonizingly as the poisonous air swirled downward and into my lungs. I dropped to the floor. Fell, really, and landed hard on my left knee. Rigid floorboards pressed against my chest as I crawled on my stomach across room after room, stretching my fingertips desperately into nothingness. Splinters jabbed through my scorched shirt, embedding themselves deeply in my arms and my chest._

Adam jerked as blistering embers sailed through the air, landing on his face and hands. Unsure of the time passed in his regressive daze, Adam called out to the deceptive sounds crying out from inside the shack.

_Danny. My God, how he pled for help, screaming that he couldn't find Mary. AnnaLynn sobbed, drawing me to her empty room. The flames had voices of their own, borne of cracking and splintering furniture and wisps of smoke and sizzling destruction. I don't know if the pleas and cries were real or if they were the devil-fire's way of taunting me. I heard Mercy whisper my name, beckoning me to follow the sound, but it led me to yet another vacant room. Then it was Mary's tiny voice, innocent and full of wonder, shrieking in torturous agony, crying that Danny had left her alone and she was scared. The flames seemed to snicker at me, puffed smugly in their ethereal shapes, dancing about me as they celebrated their cruel ruse._

Once again, Adam was wrenched from his memories when he heard his name, shouted from beyond the shack.

"ADAM!" Roy yelled as he galloped nearer the inferno.

Adam twisted, facing the voice in the distance. With newfound clarity, he raced toward the sheriff and his mare. Roy bounded to the ground as Adam, reaching under the belly of the mare, hastily worked to unfasten Roy's saddle.

"Adam, what are you . . ." Roy asked as Adam brushed him aside, snatching the blanket, the saddle slipping to the ground.

"You're not seriously considerin' goin' in there, son!" Roy yelled.

Adam wasted no time. He wrapped himself in the blanket's insufficient armor and raced toward the burning shack. "HOSS IS IN THERE, ROY! AND SO IS MERCY!" Adam shouted. "STU WEAVER, TOO, SHOOTING AND GOD KNOWS WHAT ELSE!"

"ADAM," Roy shouted, rushing in a wasted attempt to impede Adam. "I can't letcha go in there, boy! The place is comin' apart at the seams!" He reached the porch as Adam, the horse blanket draped over his head and held fast to his body, disappeared inside.

Adam's eyes watered heavily, adjusting for agonizingly long moments of time to the billowing shapes and shadows in the burning shack. Movement caught his focus. He staggered, crashing into a small table, toppling it to the ground before realizing that the motion he'd seen was that of a ghost dancing in the blaze. A sharp, high-pitched scream soared atop the roaring in his ears and Adam spun toward the far corner of the shack. A silhouette of smoke appeared to drop, taking refuge on the floor. The billowy shape slithered, then faded out of sight. Everywhere, false images materialized in the haze then withered away before his eyes. More shapes shifted and twisted and until at last, the small kitchen revealed two figures pummeling one another blindly in the thick fog.

"HOSS!" Adam screamed, silently condemning the smoke that now scalded his lungs. Adam, doubled over and heaving, raised his eyes to the vicious brawl between Stu Weaver and the brother he loved with all his heart.

Hoss staggered under Stu's blow, his body plummeting back and onto the kitchen table. He rolled as Stu dove against him, crashing into the hard, flat surface. On his feet with a speed that defied his ample size and his multiple injuries, he landed one final, brutal blow to the jaw of Stu Weaver. Spent, bleeding, and gasping for the tiniest of breaths, Hoss steadied himself momentarily against the wall. Without warning, he felt a powerful arm sliding around his waist and with no recollection of moving, his next realization was that he was outside, clear of the inferno, wheezing on the ground. He rolled his head to the side, watching powerlessly as Adam raced back into the shack.

"ADAM! YOU CAN'T GO BACK IN THERE!" Roy shouted. "LISTEN, BOY! LISTEN TO THAT SOUND! THE SHACK'S COMIN' DOWN, ADAM!"

"Ad-am!" Hoss whispered, his throat singed and dry. He lifted his bruised shoulders and chest off the ground and watched his brother disappear once again into the blaze. He coughed and sputtered, his spittle dark and filled with ash. Turning to his side, his trembling biceps fighting against gravity, he tried desperately to push himself to his feet. "Ad-am!" Hoss cried through smoke-filled lungs, his throat constricting against his brother's name.

"Hoss, you can't go in after him," Roy pleaded. "You'll never get back out alive!"

Hoss's head hung weakly as he managed to heave himself up on one knee. "He saved my life, Roy!" Hoss said, his voice cracking, his breath erratic and labored. "After all he's been through . . . He's my brother, Roy!"

Roy stared at the burning shack, his eyes pleading. _If Adam can't save that girl, again, he ain't ever gonna be the same! And if Adam don't come outta this . . ._

Roy offered his arm to Hoss, working to get the big man to his feet. Each cough racked Hoss's body and one spasm sent him tumbling back to the ground with Roy falling alongside.

"Ad-am!" Hoss wailed, tears staining his filthy cheeks as he scrambled, yet again, to one knee.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_Think, Adam! THINK!_

Over the years, he'd spent many long, cold nights in the line shack. His mental map aided his blind search as he traced his hands along the furniture and walls. His lungs seized against every breath and his skin dripped salty sweat into the cuts and abrasions on his arms and face. Feeling his way along the east wall of the shack, his knee suddenly smashed into the metal frame of the cot and he plummeted over the footboard and onto the smoldering mattress. A deafening snap sent him into a fetal position, covering his head with his hands and arms against whatever beam or support had surrendered to its inevitable fate. He swung his feet to the floor and called out to his beloved ghost; the woman who gave promise to a future he'd thought buried in the ashes.

"MERCY!" Adam cried, his voice disappearing into the seemingly impenetrable wall of smoke. "MERCY! WHERE ARE YOU?"

Another thunderous crack followed by a thud shook Adam's resolve and exposed the smoldering carnage to the moon and stars as one area of the roof gave way, sending boards and debris crashing to the floor of the shack. He sprang to his feet as the night air fed the flames lighting the shack as if the dawn of a new day had broken. The shadows slithered aside as Adam struggled to focus. A hand, fingers clenched in a frozen display of pain, blinked into view, then just as quickly, receded in the haze.

"MERCY?"

Lying motionless on the floor was the form of a body. Adam knelt next to the body, the haze hampering recognition. Bracing himself, he touched the unmoving shape. Anguish squeezed Adam's suffering heart as he felt the trousers on the body's legs.

"WEAVER!" Adam screamed. "YOU BASTARD! WHERE IS SHE?" Adam's fingers fumbled until they found Stu's neck. His pulse was weak. "WEAVER!" Adam shrieked, shaking Stu's limp body. "WHERE IS MERCY?"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Roy, I gotta git 'im!" Hoss begged, anguish in his eyes. "He's my brother!"

Once again, Roy supported Hoss as he climbed to his feet. "Hoss, I can't letcha go," Roy insisted. "You're hurt, boy, 'n' ya've breathed in a passel o' smoke 'n' ash. Even if I hadn't been busy tendin' ta you, I'm not sure I coulda stopped Adam from goin' back in there after that gal. But I swear, Hoss, I ain't gonna let two of Ben Cartwright's sons get themselves trapped in a burning shack!"

Both men whirled toward the shack as the dull sound of the roof giving way echoed in the night.

"Adam!" Hoss hollered, crawling and stumbling toward the doorway. Flames stretched through the opening, grasping at the outside world, threatening to snatch whatever stood in their way. Hoss recoiled as the blaze made its way out onto the porch, blocking entry to his brother's rescue. "NO!" Hoss yelled, reeling backwards, falling helplessly to the ground. "Oh, Adam!" Hoss labored to gain his footing, reaching feebly into the air for the buttress that had stood beside him for as long as he could recall: his brothers and his pa.

"Dear God," Roy prayed, "please help us all!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The roar of the firestorm droned in Adam's ears. Again, he shook Stu's shoulders in a pathetic attempt to rouse the unconscious man.

"SHE HAS TO BE HERE, SOMEWHERE!" Adam cried, his heart pounding against his ribs. Dragging the blanket, Adam crawled across the room, grasping blindly at everything he could touch. Desperation bred anger and that anger fortified his strength. "MERCY!" he cried, creeping steadily across the room. "MERCY!"

_What was that? Not the flames. Not the crumbling walls.. Am I hearing things? Is it the fire taunting me? Am I simply creating desperate wishes and silent prayers? _Adam crawled in the direction of the sound, feeling his way, his hands burning along the scorched floorboards._ There it is again! Where am I? So much has been destroyed. I think I just felt the side table, and this . . . Yes! This is the cot. But . . ._

"AD-AM!" Hoss bellowed, his pleading cries reduced to a faint echo inside the inferno.

_That's Hoss. Please, Hoss, stay out! I can't help you both and I have to find her! _Adam lurched, his body slamming against the wall. His trousers, searing against his leg, were on fire. He yanked the blanket into his hands and snuffed out the flame as the familiar pain of burning flesh haunted him.

"Oh, Adam."

_What was that? Not Hoss. Not that time._

Adam reached forward into the haze, seeing the cot in his mind. His hands swept across the empty mattress. He sank to the floor, bestowing his fate upon the flames.

". . . the children . . ."

"STOP IT!" Adam screamed, thrashing his head from side to side.

A cough, faint and distant, followed by another and another launched Adam into action. He bounded forward, his hands locating the edge of the cot. Quickly, he reached beneath and felt the texture of cloth, soft and delicate. His fingers slid along the fabric until they found its edge. _LACE! It's lace!_ Clenching the material tightly in both fists, he pulled, his battered muscles screaming out with a stabbing pain. Harder, he pulled, backing up on his haunches as the weight gave way and slid from beneath the cot. "Oh, Mercy!" Adam cried.

He covered her still body with the blanket, then slid strong, tender arms beneath her limp bones and flesh. Mercy, laboring for every breath, was pulled to a comforting, familiar chest and whisked from the ground and into a fleeting embrace.

"I've got you, Mercy!" Adam said, the catch in his throat giving way to a sob deep in his chest. Clutching Mercy tightly to his body, Adam dashed into the blaze, impervious to the flames scorching heat against his face and arms.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"AD-AM!" Hoss cried, still fenced in the confines of the night.

Hoss glanced at Roy, his beseeching eyes teeming with sorrow, loss, and guilt. Roy looked away, the pain on Hoss's face more than he could bear. One last glance at the crumpling shack sent tears coursing from Hoss's eyes.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The burden seemed weightless as Adam crushed Mercy to his chest. Though swathed in the blanket, the plight through the last of the flames was daunting. Head down, he felt her hair against his cheek, heard her moan breathlessly, and as he burst through the doorway, Mercy hanging motionless in his arms, Adam praised God that she was still alive.

"ADAM!" Hoss cried joyously at the sight of his brother leaving the collapsing line shack.

Hoss smiled as Roy rushed to Adam's aide. Standing unsteadily, disbelieving what his eyes showed him to be true, Hoss waited as Adam, Roy, and Mercy made their way across the yard. As he grinned at his older brother, the shack fell, consumed by the firestorm, leaving Stu Weaver to a fate Hoss could only imagine.

Gently, Adam lowered Mercy onto the ground. Roy's jacket was crumpled and placed beneath her head while Hoss, limping laboriously, fetched a canteen from Roy's saddle.

Adam stroked Mercy's forehead, easing her singed hair from her eyes, careful to avoid the many cuts, burns, and bruises the moonlight revealed. _I'm dreaming. Or insane. This can't be real._ He took the canteen from his brother and touched it to her lips. _It's true. She's alive._

Frightened that she might not answer, Adam remained silent as he tilted the canteen, allowing tiny droplets of clear, cool water to caress her lips and flow into her mouth. _Dear God, if it is real, can fate be so cruel as to take her from me now?_ Adam righted the canteen, stricken that she remained silent. "Mercy?" he pleaded, his heart held painfully in love's never ending vise. "Mercy?"

An abrupt exhale. A faint, gasping sound. A cough.

Once again, Adam lowered the canteen, dribbling water against scorched lips.

Mercy felt her eyelids flutter. Her lungs burned with every shallow, agonizing breath. Her leg hurt, and she vaguely remembered seeing her skirts afire and wondered if that might be the source of the pain. Her right cheek ached, and in her memory, she felt the sting of Stu's hand as he struck her - twice. Suddenly, she felt a chill creep through her, and she shuddered at the knowledge that she couldn't recall what Stu had done after she'd fallen near the cot.

"Mercy?"

She trembled, suddenly more alert. _Please, Stu! No more, please!_

"Try some more water," Hoss whispered.

"That voice is familiar," Mercy thought. It rang strongly of kindness and strength, and when the cool drops ran across her mouth, Mercy tempted fate and allowed them to fall into her mouth. Quickly, the droplets became sips as she felt a gentle, supportive hand behind her neck, raising her head toward the source of the water.

"Mercy?"

_Adam's voice. I must be dead. Adam's calling me home._

"I'm gonna see if there's a buckboard in the barn," Roy said, "then we can git her to the Ponderosa."

_Another voice. But I don't understand. The Ponderosa?_

"Mercy? Please, open your eyes, sweetheart," Adam said, the effort sending him into a coughing spell, the rumbling in his lungs a worrisome sound.

"You'd best have some o' that water yerself, older brother," Hoss said. "You was in that fire fer quite a spell."

"No, Hoss," Adam replied, "It's all we have and she might need it."

_Hoss? Fire? Adam? . . . STU! The line shack's on fire! My skirt! Oh, my leg hurts!_

Suddenly, as Adam watched in horror, Mercy began thrashing violently, her lips moving in soundless sentences. _Someone's here! The door . . . They're breaking down the door! The knives. Stu slid them under the cot. I have to get one!_

Her last conscious moments in the shack flooded her mind. When Stu turned to face her would-be rescuers, Mercy slid from the mattress and crawled beneath the cot, hoping to defend herself with one of the knives Stu had tossed there. She remembered gunshots, barely audible above the roar of the fire, and pain: pain in her burning leg, her bruised cheek, and her battered arms. And then nothing. Nothing, until she felt the cool air against her shivering body, tasted the water floating across her lips, and heard the comforting voices above her.

Mercy forced her eyes to open, tiny cracks appearing. Her focus waned, shapes were distorted, and darkness, dotted with tiny pinpoints of light hovered just out of reach. She blinked them closed and tried again, this time, following the guidance of Adam's voice.

"Please, Mercy," Adam begged. "Open your eyes. It's Adam. You're safe, now. No one can hurt you."

The sweet music of his voice persuaded her to try again. The cinders in her eyes stung more than before and cleansing tears mounted and poured from beneath her closed eye lids. She coughed and sputtered, her weakened body quivering.

Her labor was more than he could endure. He choked back all but the brief escape of a profound sob. Clutching her hand to his face, he closed his eyes, praying that she would be all right. "Never mind, sweetheart," he whispered, his soothing, baritone voice carrying in the sudden, growing breeze. His gentle caress as he wiped her tears left smudges in the dirt and ash on her cheeks. "Just know that I'm here," he added, his voice swelling, "and I love you."

Adam felt a tug on his hand.

"Adam," she sighed.


	58. Chapter 58

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT

"Mercy," Adam whispered, raising her head to the canteen. "Drink slowly. Not too much at first."

Two sips brought on a fitful cough as ash, clinging to Mercy's throat, trickled away along with the water.

"Easy, sweetheart," Adam cooed, his gentle voice helping to calm the spasms.

"Ad-am?" Mercy stuttered. "It's . . . true! It's . . . I thought you'd . . . Oh, Adam!"

Adam lifted her shoulders, clutching her to his chest. He rocked her, slowly, as he stroked her head, weaving his fingers through her soot-laden hair. "I thought I'd lost you," Adam murmured, "You and the children."

Mercy pushed away, still safe in his embrace. Her eyes, half closed and stinging, longed to gaze into his. "A-live, Ad-am," she sobbed, her throat caught in a spasm. "Here! Oh, Ad-am . . ."

"Shh, shh," he said, bringing her, once again, fully into his arms. "We can talk later, my love, after we get you to Doc Martin and . . ."

"Adam!" Mercy began to weep, her thoughts returning to Stu and his horrific intentions. "Stu . . . I thought he would . . . Oh Ad-am!" Her body was suddenly racked with agonizing sobs.

Adam's arm slid to her waist, drawing her firmly against his frame. He stared into the night with Mercy in his arms, rocking gently back and forth, his words wrenching his soul. "Mercy, are you hurt? Stu . . . Did he . . ."

"STU!" she cried. "Where? Stop!

"He's gone, sweetheart!" Adam promised, lifting her chin and leaning in close to her face. "Stu is gone, and I'm here, now."

"Back . . . He'll come back!"

"He can't, Mercy," Adam assured, "He can't ever hurt you again. I promise."

Mercy crumpled in his arms, clenching the fabric of his shirt in her fists as her entire body trembled and her lungs battled furious spasms.

"Easy," Adam whispered, his pleading eyes raised toward the heavens.

At the sound of Mercy's sobs, Hoss also raised his eyes toward the sky, closing them in silent anguish. Like Adam, he'd noticed that Mercy hadn't divulged what had happened in the shack. Back at the Weaver house, Hoss had seen Stu strike her and bruise her arms and her neck, and he could only imagine what Stu might have done at the shack before the fire began and he and Adam arrived. Hoss swallowed, forcing the lump in his throat downward. He started to look away when something caught his eye.

"Adam," he murmured. "Her skirt's burned. You outta see how bad she's . . . I mean, maybe there's somethin' we should do."

Adam nodded, knowing she'd have to leave the protection of his arms. "Mercy, are you hurt, sweetheart?"

Leg," she said, cleansing tears streaking her face as she cried, "hurts."

"Let me take a look," Adam said, lowering her shoulders to the ground, beckoning Hoss with his worried gaze as he did.

"I'll see if Roy's found a wagon," Hoss said, sure that Mercy would feel more at ease speaking only to Adam.

"Hoss?" Mercy said, her voice weak and gravelly. "Hurt," she whispered, choking with the sounds as Adam quickly raised her again. "Gun and . . . Ad-am, tend Hoss first."

Hoss's eyes grew bigger and his nose tingled. "Ma'am," he said, "I thank ya for your concern. I'm gonna be jist fine. You let ole Adam worry 'bout nothin' but you, ya hear?"

No sooner had Hoss wiped his sleeve across the bottom of his nose, they heard Roy running toward them.

"There's a buckboard in the barn," he said, huffing slightly from his short jog. "I'll ride back 'n' git yer horses 'n' we'll hitch two of 'em up 'n' git this young lady 'n' Hoss 'n' you too, Adam, to the Ponderosa."

"Get the horses, Roy," Adam agreed, his eyes fixed on Mercy, "but we'll be heading to town for Doc Martin instead."

"He's at the ranch," Hoss and Roy said as one, bringing an almost imperceptible tug to the corners of Mercy's mouth.

"Why? Is it Pa?" Adam asked, alarm spreading over his face. "Or Joe?"

"Both," Roy and Hoss said together. "And the children."

"The children?" Mercy and Adam said, their hoarse voices chiming in tandem.

"Them little ones is fine, I promise. I'll explain ev'rything on the way . . . on the way home," Hoss promised as he and Roy hurriedly saddled Roy's mare. "Older Brother, you'd best check on her leg."

Roy rode into the shadows and Hoss turned away as Adam raised Mercy's skirt.

Hoss heard her gasp, the sound paining his heart; he couldn't imagine what it must be doing to Adam's.

"I'm sorry, Mercy," Adam said, his soothing voice betrayed by his troubled face. "Hoss, I need some clean cloth."

"I ain't got none, Adam," he said quietly, his voice growing as he thought ahead. "But when Roy gits back, I got a clean neck cloth in my saddle bag!"

Adam nodded, his concentration on the unpleasant task at hand. As gently as possible, he tried to uncover the burn, slicing Mercy's stocking above and below the scorched material.

Mercy winced, her anguished sounds piercing the quiet night air. She bit her lip and clenched her fists.

"What's taking him so long?" Adam growled loudly, the brief outburst strangling his inflamed throat.

Hoss turned, hearing the desperation in his brother's voice. "Adam," Hoss said calmly, "he jist left. He'll be back straight away."

"Well, he's taking too long!"

A soothing, soft hand slid atop Adam's and his heart skipped.

"Ad-am," Mercy said as he smiled down at her.

"I need to tend to your leg, Mercy," Adam said. "Your stocking will need to be removed and sweetheart, I'm afraid it may hurt a bit."

Hoss limped closer to Mercy, dropped to his knees, and offered his reassuring hand in exchange for Adam's. Mercy laced her delicate fingers between his and Hoss felt an encouraging squeeze as she looked up at him.

The smoke from the shack eclipsed the moonlight and Adam shifted on the ground to catch the best angle of vision. Gently, he eased free and lifted another bit of material.

Mercy gasped, and Adam was compelled to hold her down as she thrashed her legs about.

Hoss leaned over her, speaking in muted, even words, and Adam marveled at the big man's tenderness.

Another tug revealed the entire wound, leaving Mercy's cries and pleas echoing in the stillness.

_"__Squeeze my hands, William! The doctor has to treat your burns. I know the pain is tremendous and I'm so sorry!" It hurt so much! "If only that sheriff had gotten a doctor for you right away." How did this happen? Where did this happen? Why can't I remember?_

Suddenly, Adam's back grew hot. He shuddered. His skin tightened and pulled.

_"__William, are you sure there's no one we can contact for you? You really shouldn't be alone, you know. You will make a full recovery, of that I'm sure. But having someone here for you can only speed the process."_

_"__There's no one. I don't know . . . There's no one. Thank you, but there's no one . . ."_

Mercy moaned, arching her back to the left as Adam cleaned away another piece of her stocking.

"I'm here, Mercy," Adam said, "and Hoss is here, too. You're not alone."

_I cheated death. How, I'll never know. On the staircase of the orphanage, I was sure I'd let you down. You and the children. And when at last I found my way, my pa and Hoss and Joe were there to hold me up when I weakened; to catch me when I fell. And I swear to you, my love, that I am here for you, no matter the need or the cost. And I know they'll be here for us both. For you and me and our children._

Adam looked to the east. A rustling in the distance, followed by the sound of hooves pounding against the dry earth, made him anxious. "It's about time," he shouted.

"Adam!" Hoss scolded.

Mercy reached for Adam, whispering his name.

"I know . . . I'm sorry, Roy," Adam apologized as the sheriff dismounted and led Chubb and Sport to the barn.

"Hold on there, Roy," Hoss said, struggling to his feet. "I need my saddle bags."

"Stay there, Hoss," Roy answered, "I'll git 'em."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

In the barn, Hoss and Roy worked to hitch the buckboard. The stench of burned wood and acrid smoke had followed them inside, tormenting their throats, noses, and lungs. Hoss leaned heavily against the wheel of the wagon, his breathing rapid and shallow.

"Hoss," Roy said, "I'll finish in here, son. Why don't you step outside 'n' check on Adam 'n' Mercy? Here. Use this." Roy held out his arm. In his hand was a broken broom handle, perfect for Hoss to use as a crutch.

"Aw, Roy," Hoss wined, "I don't need . . ." He staggered against the wagon, hurt and exhausted. Sucking on his lower lip, he looked over the top of his eyes at the proffered pole and nodded. "Thanks, Roy," Hoss said, reaching for the crutch and hobbling out into the yard.

Out in the open, Adam and Mercy also fought the effects of the smoke. With their only canteen nearly dry, Adam worried as Mercy coughed and embarrassed, turned her head and spit dark phlegm onto the ground.

He'd wrapped her leg loosely with Hoss's clean neck cloth. The fire had ravenously consumed all in its path and the heavy, gray haze and newly cloud-blanketed sky had made caring for her wound more difficult. The blackness shadowed the extent of her burns, and Adam prayed that it wasn't as bad as he feared.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

With Chubb and Sport side by side obediently pulling the buckboard and Roy's mare tied behind, all eyes stayed fixed on the smoldering line shack and the towers of billowing smoke drifting upward in the haze. Dawn was approaching, yet here no birds welcomed the creation of a new day. They, too, seemed aware of the destruction of the shack and the stench of the burned corpse of Stu Weaver.

The trail leading from the shack presented Roy with little choice but to plow through the numerous chuckholes and drive over the rocks and branches. In the back of the buckboard, Adam cradled Mercy in his arms, shielding her bruised and tattered body from the rigid wooden frame. Alongside, Hoss leaned heavily into the corner, his aching leg propped on a broken, splintered crate Roy had found in the line shack barn.

Wisps of clouds painted the awakening canvas as dawn approached on the Ponderosa. Birds lazily began their daybreak calls, summoning one another to the opening of another day. With each stride, the team carried their passengers closer to pure, fresh air - and away from the haze that still surrounded the smoldering shack.

Hoss and Mercy drifted in and out of sleep. Adam listened intently to Mercy's breathing, feeling the gentle rhythm and the rise and fall of her shoulders against his chest. He watched his brother resting and he smiled, aware that in a split second, should a need arise Hoss would spring into action to defend them all.

Thin rays of sunshine peeked through the branches and sparkled on the dewy leaves. Adam shook his head and sighed as Roy drove the team into the turn-off for the Ponderosa. _We're on our way, Mercy. We're almost there. Almost home._ Adam slid one hand free, tugged on his ear, and ran his fingers across the back of his neck. _How is this happening? I'm an educated man, a man of logic. How can it be that one day, I am living life at home with my father and my brothers, working on the ranch that I respect and love. Then a simple ride from the lumber camp steals me from that life and pitches me, head-first, into a nightmare where everything I've believed for a year is a mistake. A nightmare turned miracle. A terror that leaves the woman I believed to be dead alive and in my embrace!_

Adam bent down to Mercy, leaving tender kisses against her hair. _The dreams. Oh, sweetheart, for a year I dreamt every night of what you must have seen, what you must have thought, and how you must have felt as you searched the orphanage for the children. And the CHILDREN! I couldn't even close my eyes without horrific visions of them as they . . . And their screams. Every night, I heard their screams!_

Beneath his closed eyelids, as slivers of light flashed as the buckboard passed beneath trees and low hanging branches, Adam realized he'd clamped his eyes shut against the memories. The first thing he saw when they opened was Hoss sleeping, the bruises on his face swelling and turning deeper shades of purple. Next, Adam looked down at Mercy, still held fast in his arms, her breathing easing a bit as the smoke was left behind. And finally, Adam looked at the familiar terrain and realized that their destination was close at hand. _What if Pa or Joe . . . I can't face that . . . Danny, Mary, and AnnaLynn! How will I explain all of this to them when I don't believe it possible myself?_

Hoss stirred and he raised his hand to shield his eyes. Realizing that home was just ahead, he looked at Adam and smiled. Their eyes gleaming, the brothers nodded, and when Adam glanced again at Mercy, his heart swelled.

_The children. I'm going to see the children!_


	59. Chapter 59

CHAPTER FIFTY NINE

Carrie opened her sleepy eyes and glanced around the quiet room. She wasn't sure if she'd dozed off or simply rested until she craned her neck just far enough to see the grandfather clock across the room. _Yep. Definitely fell asleep!_

She imagined Danny and Mary, tucked in their beds upstairs with AnnaLynn guarding them. She thought of the moment in time when Adam would lay eyes on them and the mere thought sent a shiver through her and filled her eyes with tears. Carrie raised her head and a silent prayer poured forth from deep in her heart. _Dear God, I pray that Mercy will be right alongside Adam when that moment arrives._

Carrie was joggled from her thoughts when Joe, sleeping next to her, leaned heavily against her shoulder and snuggled his head closer to her neck. To her surprise, her face warmed and her pulse beat faster. Confused by her feelings, she looked around the room, hoping no one had seen her reaction. At the dining table, she saw Paul staring blankly at the checkers board while Mrs. Brighton nodded in and out of sleep. Alyssa sat next to Paul, her head cradled in her own arms atop the table. Ben, slept soundly n his burgundy chair, his head tilted at what Carrie thought must be a most uncomfortable angle. Satisfied that no one had witnessed the effect Joe's movement had had on her, Carrie relaxed, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. "Does anyone else smell smoke?" Carrie asked, gently settling Joe against the pillows on the settee.

"Now that you mention it," Paul remarked as he joined Carrie and headed for the front door, "I do!"

Ben roused groggily, the laudanum in his system still working its due course. "What is it?" Ben mumbled. "Hoss? Mercy?"

"No, Ben," Paul replied. "No sign of them just yet. But there's a fire somewhere."

"Fire?" Ben yelled, pushing his hands against the chair in a feeble attempt to get up.

"BEN!" Paul yelled, hurrying toward his friend.

"HUH?" Joe jerked awake, his leg bumping against the edge of the settee. "Ouch!"

"JOE!" Carrie cried, rushing back to his side.

"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs. Brighton screeched, surprised to realize she'd been asleep. "What's wrong?"

"Ben, don't you dare try to get up!" Paul scolded before swinging around to face Joe. "And you, young man, watch that leg! I don't need either one of you causing further damage to what I've already so expertly sewn shut!"

"Does anyone else smell smoke?" Mrs. Brighton said anxiously.

"Yes," everyone else responded, leaving her stunned by their unanimous response.

"Paul, would you go outside and take a look around?" Ben asked. "And Paul," he added somberly, "take a gun."

Reluctantly, Paul nodded and with Ben's gun in hand, stepped outside into the yard, closing the door behind him. The gun's grip felt foreign in his hand and he shuddered at the possibility that he might actually have to pull the trigger on a living, human being. He stepped cautiously, listening for any unexpected sounds as he turned in a circle, gazing into the distance for the source of the smoke now irritating his lungs.

Back inside, Carrie once again positioned herself next to Joe. She held his hand, wishing to soothe his pain as it gradually subsided. When he finally unclenched his eyes, she was shyly aware of his penetrating stare.

"Thank you," he said, gently squeezing her hand in his.

"You're welcome," she replied, her bright green eyes sparkling.

Their exchange, though subtle, did not go unnoticed by Ben, and it pleased him to know that Joe was at least beginning to forgive Carrie's regretful indiscretions.

"Mr. Cartwright," Mrs. Brighton said, "should we be concerned about the smoke? I mean, should I wake the children?"

"Not just yet," Ben assured. "Let's see what Paul has to report. It could be nothing at all." Ben's assurance calmed Mrs. Brighton, but he knew his land and he knew that at this time of year, it was far from being arid enough for spontaneous fires. If there was smoke, Ben knew, there was a man-made reason for it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"What is it, Paul?" Ben asked, his body stiffening, his face quickly losing its color.

Paul stepped inside and hurriedly closed the stalwart front door behind him. "There's a buckboard heading toward the house," Paul answered. "It's too far off for me to see who it is. They don't seem to be in a big hurry and there's a horse tied to the back."

Ben and Joe exchanged a glance before Joe spoke the obvious.

"Hoss didn't take a buckboard," he said.

"And Stu didn't have one when he took Mercy," Alyssa added as she joined Paul near the window.

"Who could it be?" Mrs. Brighton asked, voicing the question lingering on everyone's lips.

"Maybe someone from town looking for me," Paul said. "I did leave word that I'd be at the Ponderosa until further notice."

"Could be just about anyone," Joe added. "Other than Hoss and Roy, no one else knows what's going on."

"Was the man driving the buckboard a tall man," Alyssa asked anxiously, 'cause it could be my father. He knows I'm stayin' here for a while, but if something was wrong with ma . . ."

"It's not your father, Alyssa," Paul said, placing a comforting hand on the worried young girl's shoulder. "The man's too short." Paul raised the corner of the curtain again. "Here it comes!" Paul interrupted. "I can't see it, but I hear it!"

The silence draped over the group was stifling. Joe's eyes, intently focused on the front door, kept him from noticing Carrie's stare. She'd watched him shift himself to face the door, drawing his healthy leg onto the settee. His leg brushed lightly against her hip and the shiver she sensed racing across her flesh triggered a blush on her face. Now, with each motion he made, she noticed the muscles through the fabric of his shirt, swelling and ebbing.

"Paul?" Ben whispered, the sudden break in the quiet jolting Carrie from her thoughts.

"It's ROY!" Paul shouted.

"With a buckbo . . ." Ben stopped his query, gripped the armrests of his chair, and finished the question with a catch in his voice. "Is anyone with him?"

Paul rushed to the door, flung it open, and stepped onto the porch. "It's them!"

Carrie and Alyssa dashed into place beside Paul, surprise, relief, and fear filling their hearts and minds as they caught their first glimpses of the passengers in the buckboard.

Inside, Joe managed to hobble from the settee to the credenza, grasping at the edge of the furniture to steady his angered leg.

"Mrs. Brighton," Ben commanded after his third attempt to stand had failed, "help me get up."

Before Mrs. Brighton reached Ben, Alyssa ran back inside with a message from Paul and Roy. "Doctor Martin and Sheriff Coffee said to tell everyone to be as quiet as possible," she said. "Please, don't wake the children."

"WHAT'S . . ." Ben shouted, a glare from Alyssa quickly softening his tone, "going on? Who's out th . . . Hoss!"

With his arm hanging limply across Carrie's shoulder, Hoss shuffled into sight at the front door of the house.

"Hoss!" Joe whispered, reaching toward his brother as Carrie led the injured man toward the settee.

"I'm all right," Hoss said, his weakened voice betraying his words as Carrie strained to lower him gently to the cushion.

Ben leaned toward his injured son as Carrie examined the gunshot wound, her worried eyes glancing toward the front door.

"Hoss," Joe whispered, "what about . . ."

"Put her in the bedroom off the dining room," Paul directed as Adam swept through the doorway with Mercy in his arms.

"Adam?" Ben asked.

The anguish on his son's face pressed against Ben's chest and flashes of what should have been a joyous reunion between Adam and Mercy became nightmares in his mind.

"Oh, son, how is she?"

Mercy's fragile cough answered Ben's question.

"Alive, Pa!" Adam answered, his voice raspy and his face grim as he walked toward the bedroom. "Alive."

Ben and Joe crumpled inside as Adam disappeared into the room, his voice snagging tightly in his throat.

Seconds later, Adam faltered as he backed out of the bedroom, grasping hold of the door frame with one hand while the other trailed through his hair and onto the back of his neck. He coughed, his body trembling with each offending breath.

Carrie, torn between the immediate needs of two men she loved very much, found solace in Hoss's tired, blue eyes. A simple nod of his head released her and she moved to Adam's side. Her hand on his shoulder made him jump, and his eyes never met hers as she guided him from the doorway to the blue chair in the great room.

"Adam," she said, "you need to let Paul do his job."

Adam's penetrating eyes remained fixed on the door, left ajar and beckoning his return. His breathing, labored by smoke and emotion, was shallow and rapid.

Carrie glanced at the terrified faces of Ben, Joe, and Hoss as time imprisoned Adam in anguished silence. She reached for his hand and curled her fingers around his. Still, he stared across the room, his every breath labored and shallow.

"Adam?" Ben called. "Son, can you tell us what happened? How did you end up . . ." His voice trailed, anguished by the cold emotion on the face of his son.

Hoss shoved his fists into the settee and slid his bulky frame to a sitting position.

"Adam," Hoss said, praying his voice would penetrate Adam's soul, "you saved my life t'night. If you hadn't come inta that shack, I don't think I'd be here right now." Hoss fought to clear the sentiment from his voice, coughing and sputtering as he did. "Tell ev'rybody how ya found me at the Weaver homestead 'n' . . ."

Adam stood stiffly, pushing Carrie's hand aside.

"Adam," Joe said, his heart breaking at the thought of losing Adam again, "the children, Adam. They're here. AnnaLynn, Danny, and Mary. They're here, Adam. They're upstairs, asleep. AnnaLynn knows, Adam. She knows you're alive."

Adam wobbled on unsteady legs. Joe and Carrie stepped toward him. Hoss and Ben lurched forward, each one unable to rise but anxious to support their brother and son. Little by little, Adam sank down into the chair, his eyes never leaving the bedroom door.

"That's right, Adam," Joe continued as he made his way to stand next to the settee. "Danny and Mary don't know yet, but AnnaLynn does. I saw her eyes when we told her, Adam. She needs you, Adam."

Adam trembled, his head wavered left then right, and his eyes abandoned their watch and focused on Joe.

"They all need ya, Adam," Joe continued. "They're gonna be a little confused and maybe even scared when they see ya. But you'll explain it all to them, Adam, won't ya?"

Adam nodded. "AnnaLynn," he whispered, "didn't die. . . She isn't . . . And Danny and Mary?"

"They're upstairs, son, safe and sound and asleep," Ben promised.

"They're alive, Pa?" Adam cried as he turned, his eyes piercing Ben's across an invisible distance. "They didn't . . ."

The downstairs guest room door opened. Adam was on his feet before Paul could close the door behind him.

No one moved as Paul stepped next to Ben's chair.

"Miss Kinkead is suffering from smoke inhalation, as are Hoss and Adam, I'm sure," Paul announced. "She's been treated roughly and she has quite a bit of bruising. Her left wrist is sprained and she has a rather nasty burn on her leg. She's going to need a few days of complete rest and in a few weeks, that burn should be healed."

Paul glanced at Adam's apprehensive face. "She's going to be fine as long as she gets that rest I mentioned," Paul added.

Adam started for the door, only to be halted by Paul.

"She's asleep, Adam," he said. "She insisted that she wanted nothing to do with any pain medicine or sleeping powders. She became quite agitated and said she needed to get to town to let the children and Mrs. Brighton know that she was all right. I explained that the children and Mrs. Brighton are here and that seemed to calm her down. I was able to convince her to try and sleep for a while."

"I need to see her," Adam declared, pushing past Paul.

"Adam!" Joe called out, stepping in front of his older, larger brother. "Those kids are gonna be up soon and they're gonna have quite a jolt, seeing you alive and Mercy hurt. Let her sleep, Adam, and let Doctor Martin look you over. You don't need to be scaring those little ones by keeling over right in front of them."

Adam glared at Joe. Gradually, his façade softened as Joe's words found their way past the horrors and miracles of the past few hours.

When Adam smiled at him, Joe discovered one last bit of advice. "And besides, Older Brother," Joe said, "before you see those kids and that beautiful lady in there, you need a shave!"


	60. Chapter 60

CHAPTER_ SIXTY_

The reliable grandfather clock chimed eight, its dulcet, rumbling tones echoing across the great room. Much to the relief of the adults, the late evening trip the night before had taken a toll on AnnaLynn, Danny, and Mary, and though the morning sun beamed through the windows, there hadn't been a sound from the upstairs bedroom.

Downstairs, Paul Martin was asleep in the blue chair, his head tilted to the side, his legs askew. In the three hours since the buckboard had pulled into the yard, Paul had treated five patients, happily pronouncing each of them on their way to recovery.

On the settee, Alyssa and Joe slept soundly, each one clinging to a pillow propped to their respective sides. They'd both nodded off immediately after Hoss and Adam completed their accounts of the frightening ordeal at the hands of Stu Weaver.

Carrie, determined to keep watch on everyone gathered at the Ponderosa, sat on the hearth, leaning heavily against the cool stone wall. Though she glanced frequently from person to person, her eyes wandered most often to Joe.

Ben dozed sporadically, comfortable yet restless in his familiar, burgundy chair. Each time he awakened, he flashed from son to son, his glances his only reassurance that the previous night hadn't been a simultaneous jumble of terror and joy.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Brighton busied herself with the preparation of breakfast. Impressed beyond measure by the well-stocked, efficiently-designed kitchen in a house of males, she'd already fired-up the store-bought oven, kneaded several loaves of bread dough, put a kettle on for tea, readied the coffee pots, and stacked the dishes to be taken to the dining room.

Hoss was seated in Ben's chair, his throbbing leg propped, and his mind struggling to focus on his older brother. He'd taken on the job of watching Adam as they awaited the awakening of Mercy and the children. Like Adam, he'd washed, shaved, and changed clothes, yet even now, he felt the sting of smoke in his eyes and crawl of ash falling against his skin. And he wondered what Roy Coffee had found when he'd left the ranch and returned to the smoldering line shack.

Exhausted and weary, Adam sat at the edge of the chair facing Mercy's room. Each breath he took saturated his lungs with fresh air, and silently, as he glared at the door, he pictured Mercy breathing and willed hers to do the same.

Late the night before, everyone had freely admitted that there was no way to predict the reactions of a twelve-year-old who at times exhibited the wisdom of a scholar, a six-year-old who'd assumed the role of protector to his sister, and a three-and-a-half-year-old angelic waif. Since Adam and Mrs. Brighton knew them best, it was agreed that Adam's appearance would be explained first, and then he and Mrs. Brighton would tell them about Mercy's condition.

Each one, in their own way, passed the hours moment by moment, thought to thought; dreaming, in the present or in slumber, of the endless possibilities for Adam and Mercy, and the three children they all prayed would soon become Cartwrights.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tiny, shuffling feet made their way, unnoticed, across the bedroom floor. The daunting door loomed ahead as furrowed eyebrows glanced at its overwhelming height. One small, balled fist, landing heavily against a hip, was accompanied by a soft, determined sigh. A cherished possession was tenderly positioned on the floor, left to observe the task at hand. Pressed toes stretched upward as heels inched their way higher and higher. Petite calf muscles popped into sight, and skinny thighs tightened and lifted. One slender arm anchored against the heavy pine door while the other, after several attempts, reached the pinnacle. Small, nimble fingers searched blindly, triggering the little tongue's aid as it swept from left to right across rosebud lips. Once found the target was jiggled and with one final stretch of the toes and a swipe of the tongue across the lips, the doorknob was turned and the door miraculously opened. Quickly, the observing item was swept into loving arms and the willowy form disappeared into the hallway, quietly closing the door behind.

The same tiny, shuffling feet made their way down the hall and toward the staircase. Once again, the small, balled fist rested against a hip as rosy lips scrunched their disapproval at the height of the staircase railing. After a pondering moment, the carried treasure was tucked securely under one thin arm. The nightshirt was lifted just enough to reach the hand also holding the treasure. Fingers wrapped themselves around the first wrung of the staircase supports and one little foot descended to the first step. The other foot joined its mate before the fingers moved to the next rung as silently, the tiny body made its way to the staircase landing.

Peering intently at each face, the room was scanned: the settee, the blue chair, the burgundy chair and finally, the dining table.

"MISTOW ADAM!"

Seven adults jumped at the high-pitched squeal. All eyes shot to the staircase where Mary, clutching her doll, stood grinning, ecstatically stomping her tiny feet.

Adam floated up from his chair, his heart ten paces in front of his feet as quickly forgotten strides carried him to the staircase.

A whimper escaped Ben's throat as he watched his son tenderly sweep the young girl into his strapping arms.

"Mary!" Adam gasped, lifting her from the landing and folding her into his embrace. Adam shook his head in disbelief, his body trembling as he caressed Mary's back. "Mary!" he whispered, the sound erasing the lurid nightmares of her screams from his mind. He smelled the familiar soft scent of lavender in her flowing, blonde locks, and when she raised her head from his shoulder and looked into his eyes, his own responded, welling with immeasurable joy.

Mary tugged on her doll, now wedged tightly between her chest and Adam's. Once she was sure the doll was secure, she released her grip and cupped Adam's face in her tiny hands.

"You growed again, Mistow Adam! Danny was wight! We taked your pitcher outta Miss Mercy's spesel box an' we showed it to da flowers an' they maked you grow again!" she squealed. She shoved her hand between them, grabbed her doll, and slid it free. "Dis is my dolly. Do you weemember my dolly? Dolly, dis is Mistow Adam! He growed again!"

No one understood Mary's statement, and no one seemed to care that they didn't.

"Oh, Mary," Adam said, "I can't believe how much you've grown! And listen to you! You're talking so much now!"

"I DID grow," she said enthusiastically, "but I didn't go away fuwst! Mistow Adam, you're silly for goin' away!"

The room was filled with laughter as Adam brought Mary down the stairs and into the group gathering in front of the fireplace. Paul faced the wall, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped his eyes and nose. On the settee, Alyssa drew her legs to her chin, wrapped her arms around her shins, and giggled and wept into her knees. Mrs. Brighton, who'd witnessed the reunion from the corner by the kitchen, raised Hop Sing's borrowed apron to dab at her cheeks. Hoss limped to the settee, steadying himself against the armrest, his eyes sparkling like the surface of Lake Tahoe on a sunny, summer afternoon. Joe, tears flowing freely, tapped the empty space next to him, inviting Carrie to squeeze onto the settee. And Adam plopped down in the center of the hearth with Mary, and Dolly, on his lap.

Ben let his body shrink from the scene, melting into the background as he sat in his chair, relishing the bliss on Adam's face, and the pure delight on Mary's.

As Mary's dolly danced to Adam's soft humming, a sudden scuffling sound came from above. Carrie stood, ready to cross the room when two bodies burst into view and scurried down the staircase.

"Mary's not in the roo . . ." AnnaLynn cried, unexpectedly coming to a blinding halt.

Danny whacked into her from behind, then slowly peeked around her legs as he held fast to her nightgown.

"Mister Adam?" AnnaLynn murmured, the awe in her voice saturating the room with more emotion.


	61. Chapter 61

CHAPTER SIXTY ONE

"It's all right, AnnaLynn," Adam said. "Mary's been right here with me. Mrs. Brighton?" he called.

After one final, quick dab of her eyes, Mrs. Brighton bustled across the room, gently lifting Mary and her doll from Adam's lap.

"Missa Bwighton," Mary said, "Dolly and me . . . Oops! I'm so silly! Dolly and I are hungwy!"

Adam smirked as he looked away and scratched his ear.

Mrs. Brighton squeezed Mary, hugging her tightly. "Well, little one," she said, "why don't you come with me. We'll see what we can do about preparing some breakfast for everyone!"

"Even Dolly?" Mary asked, her tiny hands resting on either side of Mrs. Brighton's neck.

"Of course, Mary! Even Dolly!"

Mary giggled with excitement as they crossed the room. Mrs. Brighton paused at the kitchen hallway, glancing over her shoulder as Adam reverently rose from the hearth and turned toward AnnaLynn and Danny. The sight of AnnaLynn, tears rolling down the young girl's cheeks, and Danny, his eyes wide with wonder, brought Mrs. Brighton to tears. Her eyes closed in silent prayer as she and Mary disappeared into the kitchen. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Welcome!" Mary replied as Dolly clapped her stuffed hands together in applause.

In the living room, Adam stepped closer to the astonished children standing motionless at the bottom of the staircase. "It's all right, AnnaLynn."

Danny scooted behind her, hiding from the ghost walking toward them.

"They told me last night that you were . . . are alive," she said, "but I didn't know if I could believe them. And now . . ."

"I know, sweetheart," Adam said, his calm voice reassuring her fears and confusion. "Believe me, I know! I thought you had . . ." Adam's voice betrayed him, the words suddenly impossible to say.

AnnaLynn glanced behind her at Danny's large blue eyes pleading for comfort. She chose her words carefully. "You thought the same thing about us as we did about you? Is that right?" she asked.

Ben exhaled, releasing the breath he'd been holding inside. _What a perceptive child she is! She's protecting Danny. Remarkable._

"That's exactly right," Adam said, stopping at a distance before kneeling on one knee. "Danny," Adam said evenly, "it's alright."

Danny dug deeper into the fabric of AnnaLynn's nightgown, nearly pushing her forward as he did.

Adam raised concerned eyes, only to see Danny's same trepidation in the eyes of AnnaLynn.

"Take it slow and easy, son," Ben thought. "I remember when I first saw you after your return, how my heart and mind battled between reality and hallucination. And these children thought you'd died! I can only imagine."

When Adam asked, "Would you both like to sit down?" Alyssa jumped up from the settee and, along with Carrie, helped Joe to stand.

AnnaLynn extended her hand and promptly felt the warmth of Danny's in return. When Adam rose and stepped aside, she led the frightened boy to the settee, their wary eyes cast on the strangers outnumbering the friends in the room.

AnnaLynn sat first, her eyes now glancing everywhere except at Adam as she nervously smoothed her nightgown. Gaping directly at Adam's face, Danny waited patiently for her to settle and then, as she reached for him, eagerly scrambled onto her lap.

"Slow and easy, Adam. Danny's not really afraid of you," Joe thought, "The little guy just can't handle seeing a resurrection of the dead!"

Carrie led Joe to the hearth and steadied him as he lowered himself comfortably to the ledge. After several deep breaths, she turned to face the settee. "AnnaLynn, Danny, you remember me, don't you?" Carrie asked as she sat on the edge of the dependable old table in the center of the room.

"Yes, Miss Carrie," AnnaLynn replied.

"Uh huh . . . I mean, yes, ma'am," Danny said, his correction unfolding a grin that spread across Adam's face.

"Good. And we're friends, aren't we?" Carrie asked.

"Yes, ma'am," was their unison reply.

"Oh, I'm so glad! I know this is difficult; hard to understand," Carrie continued, her soft voice blanketing the room. "And it's all right to be scared."

"I am not scared!" Danny yelled, his voice trembling as his hands reached around AnnaLynn's neck. He quickly buried his face on her shoulder.

Adam stepped closer, his heart aching to feel Danny in his embrace, but he was waved off by Carrie's hand and a stern look from her eyes.

"Of course you're not scared, Danny," Carrie said. "I'm sorry that I thought you were. I was wrong. A young bo . . . a young man like you wouldn't be scared in a room full of people who care about him. Especially a young man who protects his sister the way you always do!"

"Smart, Carrie," Adam thought. "Very smart."

Danny raised his head and peeked at Carrie. "How'd you know about that?"

"Because . . ." Carrie started.

"Because I told her about it!"

Chairs creaked, bodies whirled and, without hesitation, Adam bounded toward the figure leaning heavily against the doorframe of the guest bedroom.

"MISS MERCY!" Danny screamed, clambering down from the safety of AnnaLynn's lap and sprinting across the room toward the person he needed more than anyone at that moment.

"DANNY!" Carrie shouted, hoping to stop the stampeding little boy.

Danny reached Mercy first, hurling himself against her wobbly legs.

"Mercy!" Adam whispered as he reached her side, sliding his arm around her trembling body.

"It's all right, Danny," Mercy assured, her voice raspy and rough.

Danny stepped back, frightened by the strangeness of her voice. He looked into her face and stepped back yet again. The cut on her lip and the deep, purple bruises on her face and neck became his terrified focus. Another blind step ran Danny into the arm of the settee. His disbelieving eyes darted between Adam and Mercy.

"Danny," Mercy cried as she offered her hand toward the confused little boy.

Without warning, Mercy crumpled toward the floor only to be scooped into the arms that had hungered for so long to embrace her. Tenderly, Adam laid her on the settee where Paul hurried to her side, checking her pulse and speaking softly close to her ear. Adam's eyes found Danny, his heart breaking for the little boy who'd slumped to the floor where Mercy had stood.

"Danny," Adam said, "Miss Kinkead is going to be all right."

"Mr. Adam's right, Danny," Mercy said, the weakness of her voice alarming Danny yet again.

Adam stepped closer to the boy, gently reassuring him as he did. "Danny, Miss Kinkead was . . . she had an accident," Adam said as he knelt near the boy. "You know what that means, don't you?"

Danny nodded once, his eyes bonded to Adam's.

"You see the bruises on her face?" Adam asked. "Well, bruises get better, and her sore throat will get better, too. Isn't that right, Doctor Martin?"

"He's right, Danny," Paul answered. "I'll be taking care of Miss Kinkead, and so will Miss Carrie and Mister Adam. We all will. And before you know it, she'll be just fine. And she'll sound like her old self, too."

"You promise?" Danny asked.

"I promise," Paul answered.

Danny, his eyes still glaring at Adam, opened his mouth to speak just as Mrs. Brighton and Mary, both wearing substantial amounts of flour, rushed into the dining room.

"I heard some shouting! Is there something wro . . .?" Mrs. Brighton cried. "Oh, my heavens!"

Mary stepped forward, staring inquisitively at her brother. "Hi, Danny!" she squeaked. "Missa Bwighton and me maked bwead and I cwacked eggs and she cooked bacons, but I couldn't help 'cause bacons might spwatter, so I had to stay back! Oh, hi Miss Mercy. Hi Mistow Adam!"

Danny glanced from Mary to Adam and Mercy, together as he'd seen them so many times before the fire. He looked again at his little sister, took her hand, reached for her apron - one of Hop Sing's towels tied at Mary's waist - and knelt down in front of the patient little girl. "Mary," Danny said, shaking his head. "You sure do have a messy face!" Gently, Danny wiped at the flour on Mary's chin, his eyes focused directly on his sister, his bottom lip quivering as he said, "Doesn't she . . . Mr. Adam?"

Danny dropped the towel, twisted his body and ran, throwing himself into Adam's waiting arms.

"It's all right now, Danny," Adam said as he stroked Danny's heaving back. "Everything's going to be all right."

Adam carried Danny, his hands clasped behind Adam's neck and his cold, bare feet wrapped around Adam's waist, to the settee.

"Don't be sad, Danny," Mary said as she followed behind. "Mistow Adam growed back!"

Mary's simple words moved Mercy, and the tears she'd held at bay for hours flooded her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. With Adam seated at her side, his gentle hand holding hers, Mercy wept openly.

Carrie signaled Joe with a nod of her head. He released his hold on her, knowing she could help with Danny or be of comfort to Mercy. Before Carrie could take even one step, Mary skipped into view and plopped herself next to AnnaLynn.

"AnnaLynn! We need ta set the table for bweakfast. Kay?"

"All right, Mary," AnnaLynn said.

Reluctantly, AnnaLynn rose from the settee, glancing at the faces of the strange men in the room: Joe nodded and winked at her, Ben smiled broadly, and Hoss grinned, his eyes dancing at the young girl. Timidly, AnnaLynn smiled back. As she walked past Alyssa and Joe, Alyssa gently reached to touch her arm.

"Mind if I help, too?" Alyssa asked.

AnnaLynn beamed. "I'd like that," she said.

Mercy wiped her eyes and smiled as the girls stood together. Though her leg stung, her wrist ached, and the bruises on her body had begun to smart, Mercy glanced around the room, saying a silent prayer of thanks.

With her arm lightly around AnnaLynn's waist, the Alyssa set off for the kitchen. Their path was quickly blocked when Mary lightheartedly skipped toward Ben.

"Danny can help, too!" she announced. "He's a good table settow!"

And then, to everyone's astonishment, Mary crawled onto Ben's lap. He grimaced slightly as tiny hands pushed lightly near his wound.

"Adam! She might hurt him!" Mercy whispered.

Adam was on his feet, his father's chair mere steps away when Ben suddenly waved him off.

Mercy shook her head. "She's always so shy with strangers. I don't understand what's happening!"

Mary scooted on Ben's lap, twisting to face him. "Do you have an ouchie?" Mary asked, her sweet voice nearly a whisper.

Ben smiled. "Yes, dear, I do," he replied.

Mary's eyebrows scrunched together.

"Not to worry, darling," Ben added, swathing her in his gentle arms. "My . . . ouchie is getting better already!"

Mary's little hands reached up and cradled Ben's chin.

"I'm vewy glad," Mary said, before tugging Ben's chin down closer to her head and sharing in a whispered tone, "Did you know I can fold nakins?"

Ben was so overwhelmed by the little girl's genuine spirit that he found he was unable to reply. He laid his cheek atop her head as he fought back blissful tears.

Adam shook his head, his mouth agape as he watched the imp he recalled as shy and easily frightened take an instant liking to a man who many adults found intimidating.

Dumbfounded, Mercy could find no basis for Mary's actions other than the fact that the little girl trusted and was, for some reason, drawn to Adam's father.

For the first time in hours, the unfolding scene released the tension in Hoss's body and he let out a soft sigh as he wiped at his shining eyes.

Joe glanced at Carrie, swung his arm around her shoulders and, hiding his discomfort, pulled her into an embrace as they watched Mary count the fingers on Ben's calloused hand.

Paul Martin, amazed at the turn of events of the last ten hours, sank heavily into a dining chair, rubbing the distress of the day, as well as a few joyful tears, from his weary eyes.

"Breakfast is ready!" Mrs. Brighton announced as Alyssa carried in the last of the plates of flapjacks and AnnaLynn brought to the table a large, porcelain vase filled with yellow roses.

Following behind them were Danny and Mary; Danny proudly toting the silverware in an Indian basket and Mary carrying twelve expertly folded napkins.

"I hope everyone is alright with eating buffet style!" Mrs. Brighton added. "There isn't enough room at the table for everyone."

And with that, the chatter in the room gradually built from a dull drone to a boisterous cacophony of sounds.

"Mr. Cartwright, you stay right there! I'll fill you a plate and get you some coffee." Ben smiled as Mrs. Brighton rushed off to gather a cup and saucer, and then began filling a plate.

"Hoss, would you like blueberries or strawberries on your flapjacks?" Hoss's mouth watered at the prospect and quickly acknowledged that a little of both would be fine.

"Mary," Ben said, "you did a fine job on these napkins! And Danny, this silverware is just what we needed!" The children beamed as they stood before Ben holding a neatly creased napkin and a gleaming, silver spoon.

"Mercy, sweetheart, your tea will be ready in a minute." Mercy smiled up at Adam, her eyes lingering after him as he headed for the kitchen. _A miracle. This is truly a miracle._

Joe smiled at Carrie as she buttered a slice of warm bread and placed it one his plate. "When Ole Hop Sing gits back, he shore is gonna be sorry he missed all this excitement!"

"This is da bestest bacon I evew had!" Mary's eyes closed and she wiggled in delight as she savored her fourth piece of mouth-watering bacon.

"Joe, do you and Carrie need sugar for your coffee?" Alyssa offered the sugar bowl, placing it in Joe's accepting hand before returning to the table to help with the little ones.

"I already know how to read. Miss Kinkead taught me, and now, I'm teaching Mary!" Danny grinned as he handed Hoss the heaping plate of steaming scrambled eggs.

"AnnaLynn," Ben said, "Mrs. Brighton tells me that you've just learned to knit. And, she says, you're quite good at it!"

AnnaLynn blushed at Ben's compliment, her cheeks flushing as she glanced from Mrs. Brighton to Ben and back again.

"Mistow Hoss, you eated all your fwapkacks!" Mary squeeled. "And now, you have a messy face, too!"

Hoss nodded as he swallowed his latest mouthful.

Mary knelt on the chair and leaned closer to Hoss. "I'll clean you wiff my nakin!"

Hoss's clear, blue eyes gleamed as her tiny hand dabbed at his chin.

"Danny," Joe yelled from across the room, "don't forget, as soon as my shoulder and my leg get better, you and I are going fishing!" Joe grinned as Danny nodded, his face all but hidden behind his large glass of milk.

"Hoss, did you know that AnnaLynn loves to work with animals?" Hoss winked at AnnaLynn, her return smile answering Mrs. Brighton's question.

"Mistow Cawtwite, do you like scwambled eggs?" Ben's affirmative answer prompted Mary to ask for more eggs, so she could 'be like Mistow Ben'.

Back at the threshold of the ranch house doorway, Roy stood, his eyes brimming as he watched all the happy activity. Almost hating to interrupt, he smiled, puffed his chest, and said in his most booming voice:

"PARDON ME FOR INTERRUPTING!"

Gradually, silence fell over the crowd as all eyes turned to see Roy Coffee standing in the doorway.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Moments later, the murmur began anew, after Roy had tactfully managed to let the adults know that 'everything was fine at the line shack' and that 'someone had left town permanently'.

"I can't thank you enough, Roy," Ben said softly, shaking the sheriff's hand.

"Now, Ben," Roy replied, "I didn't do anything." Roy's voice grew hushed. "It was Hoss 'n' Adam, and Little Joe, too. Why, if Joe hadn't done what he done, who knows what might have happened ta Miss Kinkead and even Alyssa right then and there? 'N' Hoss 'n' Adam? Why, that pretty young thing over there wouldn't be here right now, I can promise ya that!"

"Still, Roy," Ben said, "you brought Hoss and Adam and Mercy home to us and for that, I thank you."

Roy nodded as he glanced around the bustling great room. "You're welcome, Ben."

"Roy, how about some breakfast?" Adam yelled from the dining table as he pretended not to see Mary snatch a piece of bacon from his plate.

"Don't mind if I do!" Roy replied, ambling toward the table.

"Him will need a nakin!" Mary squealed, chomping on the bacon, as she slipped from her chair, rushed up to Roy and took his hand in hers. "C'mon Mistow . . . Mistow . . ."

"Coffee," Joe said.

Mary turned, one hand in Roy's, the other, a balled fist, thrust against her hip. As she scrunched her forehead, the room fell silent. "You are silly, Mistow Joe," Mary said. "Him needs a nakin! Not coffee!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Afternoon sunshine streaked through the window, its rays warming the empty room still occupied with the love and laughter of the morning. Tiny particles of dust drifted through the rays, dancing in the air that still carried the fragrance of fresh baked bread. Happy, content faces glided from here to there as memories overflowed one another, each one equally precious and sacred. Drowsy eyes and gaping yawns signaled the stillness that had fallen over the gathering.

Carrie smiled as Danny, his awe-filled eyes losing their focus, stared lazily at Joe as he shared yet another tale of fishing at Lake Tahoe with his brother, Adam. Twice, Danny had politely interrupted, asking when Joe thought his leg and shoulder would be better so he and Danny could plan their first fishing trip together.

"Hey, buddy," Joe said, "you look awfully sleepy. I think maybe you might need a little nap."

"I think you may be right, Joe," Carrie said.

"No, sir, Mister Joe," Danny said with a shake of his head. "I'm six-years-old. Mary needs a nap, but not . . ."

Danny's proclamation was halted when his throat tightened and his ears popped, forcing a colossal yawn that sent Joe into a giggling spasm. Joe's shoulder ached with each chuckle, and Carrie was quick to ease him back against the settee.

Danny sulked and started to draw away when Joe reached with his good arm and pulled the boy closer, tickling his waist as the two laughed together. "Danny," Joe said, "I'm planning to take a nap myself. It's been an interesting day or two around here, and if I'm gonna be strong enough to go fishin' soon, I need ta rest up."

"YOU'RE gonna take a nap, Mister Joe?" Danny asked, his eyes wide and questioning.

"Yes, sir," Joe answered, "and I'll betcha Mister Hoss and Mister Ben will too!"

"Even Mister BEN?"

Joe pressed his lips together tightly and nodded.

"Wow!" Danny gasped as Joe winked at Carrie and struggled to hide his grin.

Across the room, AnnaLynn sat with Hoss, asking all manner of questions regarding the expectant mare he'd mentioned an hour earlier. Her questions were intelligent and well-thought-out, and Hoss was amazed at her eagerness to learn. Hoss had blushed, several times, as she freely described what she already knew about the foaling process, and he'd agreed that when the mare's time came, and with Miss Kinkead's permission, the young girl could be his assistant in the delivery.

"Mr. Hoss," AnnaLynn said, full of excitement, "I'm sure Miss Kinkead and Mister Adam will let me be your assistant!"

Hoss nodded, his warm smile adding to his twinkling eyes, pleased at the automatic addition of Adam in AnnaLynn's statement.

Seated comfortably once again in his burgundy chair, Ben admired Hoss as he watched him interact with AnnaLynn. When the picture book resting on his lap began to slide, he grabbed at its corner and pulled it off to the side. Mary, seated limply on his lap, had let go of the book as her sleepy eyes succumbed to the busy events of the morning. He looked down, and studied her features, watching her chest rise and fall.

"Pa," Adam whispered as he laid a gentle hand on his father's arm. "Let me take her up."

Another hand, this one on Adam's arm, was followed by another soft voice. "I can do it, Mister Adam," AnnaLynn offered.

"Thanks, honey," Adam said, "but you're busy talking to . . ."

AnnaLynn pointed quickly toward the blue chair where Hoss lay, mouth agape, snoring softly.

"Mister Hoss fell asleep," she said. "I think it was the medicine that Doctor Martin gave him."

Adam dipped his head and scratched the back of his neck while Ben covered his grin with a cough and a hand over his mouth.

"Danny needs a little rest, too," AnnaLynn added, and within minutes, she climbed the staircase with Mary in her arms and Danny trailing behind.

Adam followed shortly, insisting to Mercy that he should make sure they were settled. Once upstairs, Adam peeked into the bedroom. Side by side, Danny and Mary slept on the mattress on the floor as AnnaLynn kept watch, lying in the bed, reading the book of sonnets Adam had given her more than a year ago.

It wasn't long before, with minimal help from Paul and Carrie, Joe and a newly awakened Hoss had managed to scale the staircase. The brothers settled into their respective rooms and soon, both Hoss and Joe fell fast asleep.

Carrie tip-toed from Hoss's room and started down the hallway. Once in her own room, she stood before the open window, stretched the kinks from her shoulders and neck, and reached for the book she'd been reading while staying at the Ponderosa. She flopped into the chair next to the window and slid her finger along the marker, opening to chapter sixty-two.

"Time passed fleetingly and in that time, he forgave her, opening their minds, hearts, and souls to the possibility of a lifetime of love and happiness." A shiver ran through Carrie as she read the line a second time, and then a third. She closed the book, reached behind her for the shawl draped over the back of the chair, and pulled it tightly around her shoulders. Slowly, she made her way to Joe's bedroom door. She hesitated, her hand lying against the cool, plane-smoothed pine, the words from her book echoing in her mind: ". . . he forgave her . . ." Carrie pushed through the door and slipped silently into the chair next to Joe's bed. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapped the shawl around herself, and drifted to sleep, listening to the sound of Joe's breathing in symphony with her own.

Downstairs, satisfied that his patients could do without him, Paul said his goodbyes and accepted innumerable, sincere thanks before he and Roy readied to escort Mrs. Brighton and Alyssa back to Virginia City. The ladies, exhausted and relieved, bid goodbye to Ben, Adam, and Mercy amid more heartfelt thanks and hugs. As the buggy moved on and the Ponderosa drifted out of sight, the main topic of discussion was the anticipated announcement of a wedding date for Adam and Mercy.

After a precarious walk up the stairs with Adam at his side, Ben Cartwright, lying on his bed beneath a cool, crisp sheet, stared across the bedroom at the first piece of furniture he'd made for Marie so many years ago: her large, pine dresser. Atop that dresser, resting on Inger's hand-made tatting runner, were three ornate, silver picture frames. Centered in front of those frames was Elizabeth's small, delicate jewelry box, a matched piece of porcelain to the music box in Adam's room. Ben smiled, inhaled , and said a silent prayer as the laudanum Adam had insisted he take slowly captured him and carried him to his awaiting, joy-filled dreams:

"Thank you for sending my boys back to me. And for knowing, in your wisdom, that William held my son together when no one, not even Adam himself, could. Thank you for leading Mercy and the children to us. Already, they . . . fit, as if they're pieces of our family puzzle, their edges molding shape, fitting tightly against ours. Our puzzle has grown. And while that growth has altered the picture, it's one I will cherish always. I am blessed."

Downstairs, in the guest bedroom, Adam reclined against a multitude of soft pillows propped against the headboard of the bed. Cradling Mercy in his arms, he brushed his cheek gently against her silky, blond hair. She sighed, and Adam smiled. He stretched his arm toward the delicate vase on the nightstand, his eyes focused on the most perfectly-petaled yellow rose near the center of the bouquet of twelve. He freed the exquisite flower from the others, tugging gently as the stem pulled loose from those that held it securely. His movement worried Mercy.

"Adam, what is it? . . . Oh, Adam!"

"For you, M'lady," he cooed, slipping the rose into her waiting hand. "A simple, yellow rose, the beauty of which pales in your lovely, delicate hand."

Mercy responded, pressing into his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin.

"You should sleep, sweetheart," he whispered.

"I don't know if I can," she said. "I'm . . . afraid."

Adam tensed, twisting so he could see her face. "Afraid? Of what?"

Mercy looked into Adam's eyes, suddenly filled with distress and foreboding. She smiled up at him and as her lips parted, she tenderly stroked his cheek. The stubble made her fingertips tingle. "I guess I'm being foolish, Adam," she said, "but I'm afraid if I close my eyes, well, when I open them again, this will all have been nothing more than a dream. And if that were true, I know in my heart that . . . I couldn't go on."

Gently, he lifted her chin, and bent to kiss her parted lips. The kiss, everlasting in their souls, quickly erased her fears. Adam reached for her hand, closing his fingers over hers as they held fast to the yellow rose. "I love you," he whispered, his breath warm and moist against her mouth.

Mercy shivered. Instantly, tears flooded her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. "And I love you."

As he pulled her into a tender embrace, the rose slipped from their hands, its delicate petals and stem coming to rest on the yellow and white quilt covering Mercy. Their embrace lingered, kiss after endless kiss, until, drained of all strength, Mercy laid her head against his chest and snuggled, pressing kisses against his shirt.

Adam listened to her breathing, each faint whoosh of air drawing love from depths he hadn't known existed until that moment in time. His chest ached with the weight of his adoration . . . an ache that sculpted his soul and entwined it with hers. Adam closed his eyes and sighed, swept away in his happiness.

**_finis _**

**_Thank you to everyone for reading this story. I'd never written a story like this, let alone a sequel to another story. Your comments and messages have helped me in this ongoing learning process. I appreciate your input and hope you might consider following my other Bonanza fanfiction stories._**


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